


Dragonspawn

by MsMitty



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Trauma, Daddy Issues, Dorne, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, House Martell, Kinslaying, M/M, Multi, Politics, Revenge, Sibling Love but without Incest, Targaryen Madness, Targaryens who doesn't want to be Targaryens, Unreliable POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2018-12-14 03:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 108,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMitty/pseuds/MsMitty
Summary: “You crave blood, Rhaenys Targaryen, and blood you shall have. Lion blood, dog blood, dragon blood. The last one will be your undoing.”Elia Martell finds a way to protect her children from Tywin’s mad dog during the Sack of King’s Landing, but at the cost of her own life. For the next seventeen years, Doran and Oberyn hide them in plain sight as Sand Snakes, until everything changes when Aegon finds a mysterious letter while seeking answers about his father’s past. And the cursed sword of a fallen dragon queen will only make things worse.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-written version of a work I had to remove from FFnet after being severely abused. If this story looks familiar to you, this is probably why. There are some major changes in this version, though. I’ve had a lot of fun while rewriting Dragonspawn, but now I’m actually freaking out about reposting it. Please remember that this is just fan fiction, a story told from biased, unreliable POVs on purpose. The characters speak for themselves, not for me, but if this is going to be a problem for you (if you’re sensitive about Jon Snow or Daenerys, for example) please just ignore it. The plot revolves around Elia’s children, them being the chosen ones of R’hllor. The other Targaryens (Jon and Dany) will appear very briefly, and when they do, it won’t be for a happy Targaryen reunion where everyone is perfectly honest, reasonable, and forgiving etc. There will be serious conflicts until they unite against the Night King in the end. Also, I follow the show version of the Dorne plotline to some degree, for the reasons I’ll explain later. Like I said, if this doesn’t sound like your cup of tea, or if you think I’m a shitty writer at any point (which might be true, but I only write for fun anyway), feel free to ignore me. Anyway, I’ve been told AO3 community is much more tolerant, I hope it’s true…
> 
> Disclaimer: Please don’t call Aegon and Rhaenys OCs. I know they died very young, thus we don’t know much about their personalities, but it was still George R.R. Martin’s idea to give Elia and Rhaegar two kids, not mine. Like everything else in the ASOIAF universe, I didn’t create them, I don’t own them. This is just my interpretation of their future, and if you think it is wrong, call them OOC (out of character) all you want, I don’t care. But calling them OCs (original characters) feels like stealing them from their rightful creator, and I don’t feel comfortable with that.

For each man kills the thing he loves,

Yet each man does not die.

—Oscar Wilde

In 283 AC, after the Battle of the Trident, the Lannister army, led by Lord Tywin Lannister himself, appeared at the gates of King’s Landing. Tywin Lannister claimed that he was there to defend the city against the rebels, and requested entrance. However, when the gates were opened, the Lannister forces sacked the city, and Lord Tywin sent Ser Gregor Clegane after Princess Elia Martell and her children, with specific orders.

Elia was prepared, though. Since her husband, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, had left for the Trident, she had been exploring the hidden passages of the Red Keep in secret, with Lord Varys’ help, and together they had found the safest spot to hide her children in case the city fell. When the Mad King allowed the Lannister troops into the city, she knew they weren’t there to fight for the Targaryens. Not after Rhaegar’s death. So, she fed her infant son at her breast one last time, took him and his sister to the hiding spot, and returned to her apartments alone, hoping she could strike a secret bargain with Tywin to secure her children’s future.

Soon, Ser Gregor Clegane broke into Elia’s chambers. She thought Tywin wouldn’t dare make an enemy of Dorne by harming her. She was wrong. When she refused to tell Gregor Clegane where the children were, and insisted speaking with Lord Tywin in person, he brutally raped and tortured the Dornish princess to force her to reveal the children’s whereabouts, but she bled to death before he could learn anything from her.

Despite this failure, Robert Baratheon accepted Tywin’s fealty, though reluctantly. With Rhaegar’s heirs missing, and King Aerys’ remaining family on Dragonstone, Robert was uneasy during the first year of his reign. After Queen Rhaella died in childbirth, Prince Viserys fled to Essos with his newborn sister. In the meantime, Robert’s men searched the Red Keep day and night for Rheagar’s children, but found nothing, until one day Lord Varys presented Robert with the rotten corpses of an infant boy in swaddling clothes, and a little girl dressed in one of Princess Rhaenys’ bed gowns, claiming to have found them in one of the hidden passages of the keep, not very far from the late Princess Elia’s chambers. While no one could confirm these were indeed the bodies of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon, as they had been decayed beyond recognition, it was still a relief to both the Lannisters and the Baratheons.

In truth, Lord Varys had come for Elia’s children shortly after the Sack, and delivered them to the Dornishmen her brothers had sent, as he had promised. They had been spirited away to Starfall immediately. Lady Ashara Dayne was a good friend, and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Elia, and she had promised to keep her children safe in case Elia failed to make a deal with Lord Tywin. But, after learning about his brother’s death, and giving birth to a stillborn girl, she threw herself from a tower of Starfall. The Daynes swore a vow of silence, and the survival of Elia’s children became a secret between the two houses. Oberyn returned to Sunspear with Aegon, while Rhaenys was temporarily sent to High Hermitage, one of the most isolated castles in Dorne. Aegon became Vorian Sand, Oberyn Martell’s only known son, mothered by Ashara Dayne. A year later, when Robert Baratheon was convinced that Rhaegar’s children were dead, Oberyn brought Rhaenys to the court, too, as Meria Sand, a Sand Snake whose mother was a whore from Myr.

As Doran secretly plotted a Targaryen restoration through Aegon, Oberyn trained them himself, along with his own daughters. The Baratheons and the Lannisters ruled the Seven Kingdoms together for seventeen years, but the Martells knew this false peace wouldn’t last forever, not while Elia’s blood was still on their hands.


	2. A Dangerous Game

“You think too much, brother.”

Doran didn’t say anything. Instead, he kept studying the board with thoughtful eyes. Oberyn was starting to get bored.

It was a beautiful afternoon in the Water Gardens. Here, while playing a game of _cyvasse_ with Doran on the terrace that overlooked the gardens, he could hear Obella and Dorea swimming in the pools. Ellaria was watching them, holding little Loreza in her arms. The youngest Sand Snakes were being fostered here, just like their elders had been before them. They were going to spend their days playing with the children of both the highborn and the smallfolk, as equals, until they grew up and had other pursuits in life. Whatever those pursuits might be, Oberyn was going to make sure they had the freedom to chase them. He always had.

Unlike his daughters, Oberyn’s reason to be here was duty. His brother summoned him here twice a fortnight, and as he was still the Ruling Prince of Dorne, Oberyn had to answer his summons. He would stay for a day or two, then return to Sunspear, and kept making sure everything went according to Doran’s plans.

Finally, Doran moved his dragon. It was a good move, Oberyn realized, one that had put him into a difficult position. Now it was his turn to think.

 “You don’t like it,” Doran suddenly said, and Oberyn knew he wasn’t talking about _cyvasse_ anymore.

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t like it when people play such dangerous games with children.”

“If I had refused, it would have only raised suspicion.”

“It would have been suspicious to refuse a princess, indeed,” Oberyn agreed.“When will she be here?”

“Within a fortnight, I presume. How did our niece take it?”

“Not well.” And that was an understatement.

“You have indulged Meria for too long, Oberyn. Discipline her, or I will.”

“Should I punish my niece for loving her mother?”

“This wouldn’t be the first time she hurt a little girl,” Doran reminded.

His brother was right. Most of the time, Oberyn was proud of Rhaenys. Who wouldn’t? She was only one-and-twenty, and one of the best fighters he had ever seen. Even Oberyn was struggling to keep up with her these days when they sparred, but he wasn’t complaining. Not everybody got a chance to witness the birth of a legend like Ser Arthur Dayne or Aemon the Dragonknight.

But he also feared for her. She liked playing the hero now, but in the past, before she began to hunt down bandits, rapists, and murderers who tried to escape justice, there was one time she had gone too far when she had sent a doll infected with greyscale to a babe, just because she had been born on Dragonstone. Shireen was her name, Oberyn remembered. Stannis Baratheon’s daughter. She had miraculously survived, thank the gods, but they had heard that she still had a large scar on her face. She had to be about ten years old by now. The most disturbing part was, Rhaenys wasn’t much older when she had planned out this assassination.

“ _That_ will never happen again, she promised me on her mother’s bones.”

“Darkstar might convince her to break that promise.”

The doll with greyscale might have been Rhaenys’ idea, but it was Ser Gerold Dayne who had encouraged her to execute the plan. He was the one who had arranged a merchant ship to Dragonstone and made sure the babe had received the toy.

“He might try.”

“I always thought you would have killed him by now. Usually, you aren’t so hesitant about killing the people you don’t like.”

“Usually, you are the one that stands between me and the people I don’t like.”

Doran ignored this comeback. “I have already given you the permission to get rid of Darkstar. Yet you refuse to kill him. Why?”

Ser Gerold wasn’t the one who had killed the sweet little princess Rhaenys once was. That girl had died years ago, not on the Trident, or even in the Red Keep, but at Harrenhal, when his beautiful, noble, and equally foolish father chose another woman as the queen of love and beauty. And no matter how hard Oberyn—or even Aegon—tried, that innocent princess wasn’t coming back. If they got rid of one Darkstar, Rhaenys would surely find another.

“Because it is not him I blame for the darkness in my niece’s heart.”

“No. You blame Rhaegar.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” he muttered angrily.

Doran shut his eyes wearily. “I am too old and tired to fight you, brother.”

 _He is right_ , Oberyn forced himself to admit.His gout was getting worse by day, and Oberyn was terrified by the idea of losing another sibling. Doran had always been a bit distanced and reserved, but the burden of the eldest child had forced him to be so. If these were their last years together, Oberyn didn’t want to waste them fighting him.

“I don’t want to fight you, especially not over Elia’s gallant husband.”

“Did Elia love him? I never asked you before.”

Indeed he hadn’t, but Oberyn had always thought it was because he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

He remembered the day Rhaegar came to Dorne to meet Elia. Their mother was anxious to make everything look perfect for the visit. She hadn’t forgotten how Tywin had insulted them by offering Tyrion to Elia, and was desperate to teach him a lesson by making Elia the queen. Poor Elia, on the other hand... The idea of queenship was the last thing on her mind. All she could think about was the beautiful family she was going to have with Rhaegar. She was so excited that Oberyn had feared she might get sick again. But she hadn’t. She had greeted him as the perfect princess she already was, and the match had been secured after that visit. Everyone thought that she was doing as her mother told, for she was the obedient and dutiful one. Only Oberyn knew how much she had wanted the dragon prince for herself the moment she had laid eyes on him.

“She did.”

“Well, who didn’t, back in the day?” Doran asked with a vague smile.

“My prince,” Areo Hotah’s voice, thick with the Norvoshi accent, interrupted the conversation. “Ser Vorian wishes to have a word with you.”

Doran gave Oberyn a puzzled look, but he only shrugged. He had no idea why Aegon was here. He wondered if something had happened with Rhaenys, but if that were the case, Aegon would never leave her alone at Sunspear.

“Let him come,” the elder prince said.

After he let Aegon pass, the captain of guards went back to blocking the way to the terrace, with one hand wrapped about his longaxe.

“Uncle Doran,” Aegon greeted the uncle he hadn’t seen more than three moons first. “How are you feeling today?”

Doran straightened up in his rolling chair to kiss his cheeks. “Not any better, I am afraid.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, Vorian. But enough of me. Here, let me take a look at you.” He took his hands and studied him from head to toe for some time.

Oberyn was grateful to the late Lady Ashara, for without her, it would have been difficult to explain Aegon’s otherworldly beauty. Even dying his silver locks didn’t diminish it. Of course, along with few other families in Westeros, the Daynes were allowed to have silver hair, as well as purple eyes, but Oberyn hadn’t wanted to take an unnecessary risk, and dyed the boy’s hair before introducing him to the court. No one had seen him with silver hair since then, even Aegon didn’t remember what his true hair color looked like, as he kept dying it regularly. It was the safest way. Vorian Sand had his mother’s purple eyes and dark hair, while the fair-haired Prince Aegon was long dead.

“Have a seat, nephew,” Doran said, and Aegon did as he was told. “Now tell me, what brings you here? Did something happen to your sister?”

“No, she will be fine… I think. She is gone.”

Oberyn frowned. “Where?”

“To High Hermitage. She says she doesn’t want to be around when Myrcella arrives.”

The two brothers exchanged looks, hoping she wouldn’t let her hateful, vindictive lover poison her mind.

“I wish you had brought her here instead.”

“I wanted to. But she is in one of her dark moods, and doesn’t want to be around the children. She thinks she might frighten them.”

“Meria’s absence will not go unnoticed,” Doran chimed in. “If she doesn’t want to be there to welcome Myrcella, fine. She can be excused for once, but I want her to return to Sunspear before the tourney.”

“The tourney?” Aegon asked.

“This year, we are holding a tournament to celebrate Trystane’s nameday, and his betrothal.”

“Are we?” Oberyn asked, puzzled. He had no idea that Doran had been planning a tournament.

“Uncle, don’t you think it is a bit risky? Myrcella might just be a child, but she won’t be coming alone. She will have handmaids, a septa, mayhaps even a Kingsguard accompanying her. Some of them will be spies, no doubt. We should guard our secrets even better from now on, yet you want to invite lords and ladies from all across the Seven Kingdoms to Dorne and make things worse.”

Doran smiled. “It won’t be such a large event. Only the noble houses of Dorne will receive an invitation. I want the Lannister spies you are talking about to see our finest warriors with their own eyes. I want them to see that we are still here, unbowed, unbent, unbroken.”

“Will you be attending?”

“It is going to be tiresome occasion, but I must. The people of Dorne need to know their prince is still alive.”

“I will send a bird to High Hermitage,” Oberyn decided. “Meria won’t refuse me.”

“There was something else I have been meaning to tell you, Uncle Doran.”

“Yes?”

“Have we heard from Viserys recently?”

“Not since his sister’s wedding. Are you, too, getting impatient, Vorian?”

“I am not getting impatient. I am getting worried.”

“Why?”

“If Viserys convinces that _Khal_ to sail for Westeros... Once the Dothraki crosses the Narrow Sea, once they realize they have nothing to fear from the poison water, what then?”

“They will come here to reave and rape whenever they feel like it,” Oberyn answered the question.

Aegon nodded. “Exactly.”

“A fair concern,” Doran agreed. “What do you suggest?”

“There are five kings in Westeros right now. Let me be the sixth, before Viserys returns. If he learns that I am alive, mayhaps he will renounce his claim.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

The question caught Aegon unprepared. Poor boy expected everyone to be honorable. He still had much to learn.

Doran shook his head in disapproval. “You have a noble heart, nephew. One day it will get you killed.”

Aegon turned to Oberyn for help. Oberyn often mocked his brother’s caution that might easily be mistaken for cowardice, and his endless patience, but he actually appreciated them when it came to the safety of Rhaenys and Aegon. They had failed their sister. They weren’t going to fail her children.

“Vorian, we have talked about this,” he said. “We will wait until this War of the Five Kings is over. The victor will be overconfident, but actually weakened, and unprepared for you. I have friends in Essos. We can convince the Golden Company to join our cause. Mayhaps even the Unsullied—“

“I don’t want slaves in my army,” Aegon cut him off.

“Rest assured,” Doran said. “From what I have heard, Viserys doesn’t have the influence to convince the Dothraki to fight for them. They call him the Beggar King in the Free Cities.”

“I don’t feel bad for him anymore,” Aegon said coldly, his straight nose wrinkling in disgust. “I have no respect for someone who sells his sister off to a savage.”

“He was desperate.”

“What is the point of being king if you have to condemn the only family you have to a life among barbarians? If I am to fight Viserys for the Iron Throne, so be it. What do you say?”

“I say, be patient, Vorian.”

Oberyn smiled. _Do you see him, Elia?_

Aegon gracefully rose from the chair, preparing to leave. “I thank you both for seeing me. I shall return to Sunspear now.”

Doran nodded. “Very well. I will soon see you all at the Old Palace.”

Aegon walked out of the terrace. The two Martell brothers were alone once again. Their nephew was down in the gardens now, to see Obella, Dorea, and Loreza before leaving. The moment the girls saw the brother they admired so much, they squealed with joy and ran to his side. One day they were going to find out that “Vorian” wasn’t really their brother, but a dragon raised among vipers. He was of Dorne, nevertheless, and therefore, he would always be a part of this family, as would Rhaenys.

Oberyn returned his gaze to the _cyvasse_ board, and sighed as he toyed with his onyx elephant. War was easier than raising children. Especially your dead sister’s children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I am a big fan of Dorne, and not very happy about how it was represented in the show, I chose to follow the show version to some degree, and I feel like I owe the fellow Dorne fans an explanation, so here it goes: Yes, the Dorne storyline could have done much better with better writing, action scenes, and dialogues etc., but I actually understand why they cut off Arianne and Quentyn. My guess is Arianne will die an unexpected death like Quentyn, and it will be related to the book version of Aegon, perhaps even him being fake (I am one of those who believe the book Aegon is fake, btw), Trystane will end up the sole heir to Dorne, and since he is betrothed to Myrcella, people won’t like the idea of him ruling Dorne with a Lannister by his side. We all know the rest from the show. I believe the producers took a shortcut by cutting off Arianne and Quentyn. I took the same shortcut, because this story is already long enough. Besides, I can’t see where Arianne’s storyline would go without fake!Aegon. This is also related to Myrcella’s death, therefore to Cersei’s prophecy, so yeah, I feel like there has to be a conflict in Dorne in which Myrcella ends up dead in order to preserve Cersei’s “Mad Queen” arc. But Ellaria and the Sand Snakes won’t be directly responsible for Doran and Trystane’s deaths in this story. It will still be their fault, though. As for Darkstar, I included him because I needed a villain on Rhaenys’ side. Just because he is on her side, doesn’t mean he is not a villain. But again, there are no absolute heroes or villains in this story. It is up to you to decide who is right and who is wrong. Just because I chose to tell the story from certain POVs, it doesn’t mean you have to root for the main characters.


	3. The Prince That Was Promised

Aegon wasn’t returning to Sunspear. At least not immediately.

He had to go to the Planky Town first, to meet a Volantene merchant. This morning, a young boy had found Aegon while he was sparring with Obara in the courtyard, and given him the merchant’s note. Apparently he had brought the rare book Aegon wanted to read so desperately, and would be waiting in the Planky Town to sell it. When Obara had asked him what the note was about, he had told her that the new books he had ordered had arrived. Which wasn’t exactly a lie, and since everyone knew how much he loved reading, Obara hadn’t suspected anything. Of course, she didn’t know which book he had ordered.

“This might be the only copy in the Free Cities,” the merchant sighed as he gave him the heavy, worn-out book, with a hint of complaint in his voice.

When Aegon saw the title written in High Valyrian, he smiled.

_The Prince That Was Promised_

Pleased, Aegon nodded, and handed him a large purse. “Yes, this is the one. Thank you, Jaqaro. Here is two hundred gold dragons, as we agreed.”

He had paid the merchant a fortune not only for the trouble he had gone through to find such a rare work, but also for his silence. It would be worth it, though. If the rumors could be believed, this was the book that could prove his father’s innocence.

His heart was beating with excitement as he strode towards his horse. Now that Doran had put Aegon’s mind at ease about Viserys and the Dothraki, at least for the time being, he could focus on a more important matter. But when he saw Tyene, the excitement was replaced with panic.

“Tyene? What are you doing here?”

“I needed to buy some ingredients,” she explained. “Father is going to teach me how to make the tears of Lys when he returns from the Water Gardens.”

“Splendid!” Aegon tried his best to look excited for her.

Tyene reached for the book under his arm. “Is that a new book?”

“A rather boring one, I fear,” he said evasively.

She frowned. “Vorian?”

“What?”

“Why did you just pay two hundred gold dragons for a boring book?”

 _Fuck_. “Alright,” he gave in, and looked around before he whispered, “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” she said with a wide, mischievous grin.

“I will explain once we are home.”

That seemed to satisfy Tyene. They mounted their horses and galloped all the way back to Sunspear stables.

…

Tyene didn’t ask him anything until they were alone in Aegon’s solar. He closed the door, and left the book on his desk for her to examine.

Tyene’s lips curled up in disappointment when she looked at the cover. “I don’t speak High Valyrian very well.”

“You should,” he advised, wondering if he could distract her. “I can teach you myself if you want.”

She didn’t fall for it, though. “Well?” she asked impatiently as she pulled a chair to sit down. Aegon did the same.

“What if my father wasn’t fighting for Lyanna?” he whispered.

She frowned. “Vorian, what in seven hells—“

“Listen,” he went on. “This title, it means _The Prince That Was Promised_. Rhaegar was known to be a peaceful man, and he only took an interest in combat after reading this book.”

“What does it have to do with the Stark girl?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But if this book could make him do things he didn’t want to do… I have to know, Tyene.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is this about your dreams again?”

Aegon shook his head. Like some Targaryens, he, too, had prophetic dreams. Those visions were rare, but so far, most of them had come true. After learning how to interpret them properly, he had foreseen a few things for his family, but it had been enough to impress them.

Still, he hadn’t told anyone about the terrifying ones. Not even to Rhaenys. He had heard a sound so powerful that it had brought the Wall down. He had seen dead men with frozen, blue eyes, walking on an endless field of snow, and dragons raining fire on them. And no matter how much he hoped these visions wouldn’t come true, deep down, he knew that one day they would.

But no, this wasn’t about any of those dreams.

“No. Look, I know Oberyn and Meria won’t like it. If this book convinces me that my father was after something else, I will tell them.”

“And if it doesn’t?” she asked warily.

“Then I will burn it, and we will never speak of this again.”

“Gods,” Tyene shook her head in disapproval. “I don’t know about Father, but Meria will certainly skin you alive for this.”

Aegon chuckled. It was impossible to have a civilized conversation with Rhaenys about their father. When he was a child, if someone had told him that she had wildfire in her veins instead of blood, he would have believed it. Such was her temper. But no matter what happened, she would never take her anger out on her little brother. Aegon was counting on that.

“I am doing this _for_ her,” he said. “I want my sister to find some peace. She deserves it.”

“Even if you are right, how is this going to help?”

“If I am right, and his reasons weren’t as selfish as we think, mayhaps she can forgive him.”

“Sometimes you are so naive…”

“Naive? Do you honestly believe she hates him?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. “No,” she then admitted.

“See? She has so much love in her heart, Tyene, and no forgiveness. It has been seventeen years, and she still hasn’t let herself grieve for Father. I am afraid that one day it will destroy her.”

“Well,” Tyene said as she prepared to leave the solar, “If there is anyone who can get away with this, it is you, so… Do whatever you want, but keep me out of it.”

“I thought you liked secrets,” he teased.

“I thought it would be something… _simpler_. I love Meria, and I don’t want to fight her. But she won’t hear this from me, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“She is lucky to have you, you know…”

“Tyene, you are my sister, too. All of you. Even when I become…”

 _Even when I become king._ This was never the life Aegon wanted for himself. He had never lusted after the Iron Throne.But he, too, wanted to avenge his parents, and once they did that, someone needed to sit in that throne. Someone they could trust. And they could only trust themselves.Who else could they bow to? Viserys?

By Dornish law, Rhaenys’ claim was actually stronger, but when he told that to Rhaenys, and even offered to crown her himself, she had said she would be worse than the Mad King, so he had never suggested it again. While she was ready to defend Dorne with her life, she had very little love or care for the remaining six kingdoms. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t do that to the people of Westeros either.

Tyene flashed a broad smile at him before closing the door behind her. “I never said we weren’t lucky to have you.”

…

Once he was alone with the book, he began studying it, and soon lost the track of time. He had to force himself to remember to eat, sleep and occasionally be seen around the castle so that no one would suspect anything. The only time when he was truly distracted by anything else was the day the ship that brought Princess Myrcella appeared on the horizon. Aegon watched the sails that had been painted in the Baratheon and Lannister colors, the colors of the people who had killed his parents. Doran, Oberyn, Trystane, Ellaria, the Sand Snakes, and the rest of the court were already in the outer ward to welcome the princess by the time he joined them. He now understood why Rhaenys had left, and he wished he had left, too, for the lion and the stag he had seen on those sails were too painful to look at. But when he saw Myrcella, he only saw a lonely, timid girl who had been dragged into a strange land full of strange people, and suddenly, he wasn’t even sure how to feel anymore. Dorne was his home, and sometimes it was very easy for him to forget what a harsh land it actually was. He wondered what Myrcella was going to do when this young man who bowed to her as a bastard now claimed her brother’s throne in the future.

 _There are other ways to make sure she doesn’t seek vengeance_ , he reminded himself. _More merciful ways._

But he was aware that there was always a risk with those more merciful ways, and he didn’t want to start thinking like a king just yet. Because once he did, there would be no going back. Therefore, he returned to his secret research.

He wanted to see if there was any connection between whatever prophecy was written here, and his father’s affair with Lyanna Stark. Rhaegar wasn’t known for his carnality, or any other indications that he lacked discipline or a sense of duty. _The Prince That Was Promised_ was said to have shaped his life. If there were any answers about Lyanna Stark, they had to be found in this book.

It didn’t take long until he realized that unlike what he had thought, his dreams and the prophecy in this book were actually related. The book was about the Great Other, an enemy of the Lord of Light. At first, Aegon had thought this Great Other was another deity. But as he kept reading, he recalled the books he had read about the Northern myths and legends. These stories talked about a similar threat, an evil that would bring a winter and darkness that would last forever: The Night King. Therefore he concluded that the Night King and the Great Other were one and the same. And the Night King led the army of the dead Aegon had seen in his dreams.

It also mentioned the hero that had defeated the Great Other. Azor Ahai, who wielded a fiery sword called the Lightbringer. Azor Ahai had sacrificed his wife to forge it. Aegon found this part a bit disturbing. He had been practicing sorcery for long enough to know that the process was a blood magic ritual. He would never practice blood magic. It required sacrifice, the blood and the suffering of the innocent. Aegon didn’t have the stomach for that. He had learned the ancient Rhoynar water magic instead, which was much cleaner, from the orphans of the Greenblood. Some of them were the descendants of the sorcerers Nymeria had brought to Dorne with her.

According to the prophecy, the Great Other would return one day, and Azor Ahai would be reborn amidst smoke and salt, and wake the dragons from the stone. Mayhaps Aegon’s father had believed that he was the Azor Ahai reborn. He had been born at Summerhall on the day it was destroyed by a great fire, so there was definitely smoke. But salt? That part was a bit tricky, but he eventually figured it out. A lot of tears must have been shed on that day. There was salt in tears.

That would explain why he had suddenly decided to learn how to fight. But there was nothing that could explain what he had wanted from Lyanna. And he was dead, so even if he had believed he was the Prince That Was Promised, he had been mistaken.

Aegon was mentally exhausted. The disappointment was worse, though. Mayhaps Oberyn and Rhaenys were right. Mayhaps Rhaegar Targaryen was just an arrogant and selfish cunt, and Aegon was trying too hard to prove him innocent. But if Rhaegar hadn’t cared about his family at all, why had he moved to Dragonstone to protect his wife from the Mad King after the wedding? Why had he named his son after the Conqueror, and his daughter after the Conqueror’s favorite sister?

One night, his head began to throb from hours of constant reading. So, he decided to take a walk around the castle to stretch his legs and slammed the book shut. When he did, something slipped out from among the pages. He picked it up, and realized that it was just a blank piece of parchment. He examined it carefully, but there was nothing on it. Not even a single drop of ink. Still, he had a feeling that someone had placed it in this book for a reason.

He changed his mind about the walk and collapsed back into his chair.

“What are you?” he murmured as he kept examining the both sides in the candlelight.

Someone was pounding on his door. “Vorian? May I come in?”

It was Tyene. “Yes!”

“Father wants to see you,” she said after she entered.

“I thought he and Maester Caleotte were busy preparing for the tournament,” he said as he put the book away. Tyene had kept her word and not told anyone anything about _The Prince That Was Promised._ In return, Aegon had to keep her out of his secret research.

“They are. I think he is going to ask you to squire for him.”

Since Darkstar had been sent back to High Hermitage, it was either Aegon, or Ser Daemon who squired for the Red Viper in the tournaments. Aegon had once won a prize riding at rings when he was still a boy, and now that he was old enough, and had been knighted by Oberyn, he wanted to fight among other knights, but it would be best if he did not draw too much attention to himself. Even being Oberyn Martell’s son alone was enough to be popular among the Dornishmen. Also, Dornishmen or not, everyone in the Seven Kingdoms liked talking about young, handsome knights, even if they were bastards. And if they were especially good at fighting and jousting, people talked about them even more. Aegon knew he was too good to be easily forgotten by the Lannister men.

“What is this?” she picked up the blank parchment that was lying on the desk. Aegon hadn’t put that away, since there was nothing to be seen on it anyway.

“Trust me, not something you would want to know.”

She ignored his warning and smelled the paper. “Clever,” she commented as if she was talking to herself. “Who gave you this?”

Well, she was the one who asked… “I don’t know. It was in the book.”

“You mean, _the_ book?”

“Yes?”

“Give me wine!”

“What?”

“Do you have any wine here?” she asked impatiently.

He brought her a bottle of Dornish strongwine. She took the bottle and splashed a handful of wine on the paper.

“Tyene, what are you doing?” Aegon exclaimed.

“Calm down,” she said as she carefully placed the paper on the desk. “Look.”

High Valyrian words had begun to appear on the page. Whoever had written this, he had the most elegant handwriting Aegon had ever seen.

“So? What does it say?” she asked curiously. Despite what she had said earlier, she apparently didn’t want to stay out of this at all.

When Aegon started reading, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

_Prince Aegon,_

_I am glad to see that you have finally taken an interest in your father’s pursuits. As his son, it is your duty to finish what he started. While this book might help you comprehend the gravity of the threat, it cannot prepare you for your destiny. For ages, my priests and priestesses have been traveling all across the world, to find the Lord’s chosen, but now I believe this search has come to an end. The Iron Throne might be your birthright, but if you want to learn what Prince Rhaegar’s true legacy was, come to the Red Temple in Volantis. Your sister should come with you as well. We have so much to discuss._

_Kinvara_

“Vorian, Father needs to know about this,” Tyene said when he translated the note. “Someone knows you are alive. Someone knows you are _here_. I am going to tell him if you don’t.”

“Alright, alright… I will tell him. Just give me a couple of days to think, will you?”

“Fine,” she agreed. “You have three days.”

 _My father’s true legacy_ , he thought. _Kinvara claims to know about my father’s true legacy._

He had heard about Kinvara, the High Priestess of the Lord of Light. Aegon didn’t like the red priests and priestesses much. Most of them practiced blood magic. There was one who supported Stannis Baratheon, for example. They said she was burning alive those who refused to abandon the Seven, and offered them as a sacrifice to R’hllor.

Aegon didn’t care much for religion. Magic was a force independent from gods, so a sorcerer didn’t have to worship any of them to harness it. That was what Aegon did. But what if they went to Volantis, and Kinvara decided to punish him, and his sister, like Stannis’ priestess punished those people?

And Rhaenys… She was going to be furious when she learned how Aegon had been going behind her back. It wasn’t going to be easy to convince her to travel to Essos, especially when she found out that it had something to do with their father. Mayhaps he would have to go there alone.

But that night, Aegon had another dream and understood why he had no choice but to convince Rhaenys. He saw his sister, wielding a flaming sword in her hand. She was the princess that was promised.


	4. Homecoming

Rhaenys hated tournaments. And winter roses. The latter wouldn’t grow in the desert, the blazing Dornish sun would parch them before they could even bloom. The thought gave her a cruel pleasure. Mayhaps that was why she loved Dorne so much. But even in Dorne, there was no escape from tournaments.

She was lying in his bed, completely naked, when Gerold returned with an invitation to Trystane’s nameday tournament.

She looked at the fresh scratches on his chest. She had scratched him too hard. Again. Not that Gerold complained, but still.... Well, at least she liked to know that she was the only woman who could do this to Darkstar.

“There is also another note,” Gerold added, giving her a second roll of paper. “This one is for you. I didn’t break the seal.”

Indeed, there was Oberyn’s seal on this one. Rhaenys took a deep breath before breaking it. She didn’t have to guess what Oberyn wanted from her.

_Dear Meria,_

_Your absence in this tourney will not go unnoticed. We might have our differences, but in the end, we all want the same thing. We all want to serve Dorne. As my daughter, and a Sand Snake, you belong here, at Sunspear, with your siblings, and your presence is required, especially now more than ever._

_Oberyn_

Oberyn hadn’t given her much of a choice. His message was obvious: _Return home, or your suspicious behavior will put Dorne in peril._

She knew Gerold would be attending. He would never shy away from a challenge. He was even more desperate to prove his worth ever since he had been denied Dawn by the Daynes of Starfall. He hadn’t been denied because he wasn’t good enough. In fact, he was one of the finest swordsmen Rhaenys had ever seen, and she wasn’t one to be easily impressed. He was only denied because he refused to forgive his father’s murderers, unlike those cowards at Starfall. They were still loyal to House Martell, thankfully, but they didn’t follow the isolation policy most Dornish houses did. They had forgiven the Starks just because Eddard Stark had brought their ancestral sword back after killing Ser Arthur. Since Lady Allyria had been betrothed to a lord from stormlands, and Edric Dayne had been sent to serve him as a page, their relationship with Gerold was even more strained.

Rhaenys had spent her first year in Dorne at High Hermitage. Gerold was only a few years older than her, and his father was one of the ten thousand Dornishmen who had died on the Trident. While they were too young to understand what was really happening and why, even children could understand what the war had taken from them. They had mourned their losses together, and soon become good friends. When Oberyn finally came for her, he had seen the potential in Gerold. He was a promising young boy who had lost his father in a war that should have never started, and he needed a mentor to guide him. Oberyn had decided to be that mentor. He had made him his page, and raised him to squire when he was old enough. He had even knighted him himself. But Gerold’s cruelty and arrogance would soon make him regret that decision, and he would be sent back to High Hermitage.

His love for Rhaenys had remained unchanged, though. She was only nine when they kissed under the orange trees in the Water Gardens. She was four-and-ten when she gave him her maidenhead at the Tower of Joy.

She wasn’t planning to give him her maidenhead, she wasn’t even going there to meet him. She had just wanted to see that tower with her own eyes. She wasn’t even sure what she had expected to find in the Tower of Joy. Mayhaps she had hoped there was no such tower, at least half of the things she had heard about Rhaegar would have been lies then. At least she would have known that he had had the decency not to hide his whore in his wife’s land. But the tower was there, there was no denying it, and all that had remained from Rhaegar and Lyanna’s foolish affair was a few pieces of rotten furniture. A bed, a wardrobe, and a desk. In the wardrobe, she had found the silver strings of his harp. The instrument itself was nowhere to be found, the thieves must have stolen it. That had been the last straw, and she had burst into tears.

That was how Gerold had found her, broken and crying. High Hermitage wasn’t very far from the Tower of Joy; Gerold was hunting when he saw someone riding towards that tower and had decided to follow. He hadn’t said anything when their eyes met. He had just kept her in his arms until her tears ran dry. Then, she had asked him to take her maidenhead. She had thought it would be the best way to get back at Rhaegar, to give her maidenhead to someone he would never approve, at the very place where he must have fucked Lyanna. It seemed like a silly idea now, still, she didn’t regret anything she had done with Gerold. They were inexperienced and clumsy at first, but she had learned everything with him, including things proper ladies wouldn’t dare try even with their husbands. Yes, he was a cruel man, but he had sworn to be loyal to Dorne and to House Martell. As long as he kept his promise, Rhaenys didn’t care what he did to other people.

Gerold undid his breeches, and let Rhaenys pull him back into the bed.

“We don’t have to go,” he suggested between long, wet kisses.

She paused. She didn’t want to leave either. Here, at High Hermitage, it was easy to pretend that Dorne was, and always would be free from the Lannister influence. Gerold’s holdfast was her sanctuary. But Oberyn was right, she could think more clearly now, and she knew she had a duty to her brother, her uncles, and her cousins. To her mother’s people. Besides, it was wise to keep one’s enemies close.

“We do. You know I can’t stay here forever.”

He admired her naked body for a while, his thumb fondling one of her dark, small nipples. “Why not? I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

She loved the way he looked at her. He was the living, breathing proof that a beautiful man didn’t always have to fancy an equally beautiful woman. The most handsome man in Dorne had not only chosen a girl like Meria Sand, but also remained so faithful to her. Before he took her maidenhead, Gerold was a virgin, too. They had promised that they wouldn’t have other lovers, unless Rhaenys had to give her hand in marriage for a political alliance, of course. It was an uncommon promise in Dorne, but they were both too jealous to share each other with anyone else. Gerold kept saying he would challenge any suitor—even if it was purely political—to a duel, cut off his manhood and stuff it in his mouth before cutting off his head as well, but he very well knew that he, too, needed to make some sacrifices if he wanted to avenge his father. Still, Rhaenys couldn’t be sure. He had once challenged a sellsword from Tyrosh to a duel and gutted him like a fish for trying to woo Rhaenys. Not that he was a gallant knight, of course. He very well knew Rhaenys could handle herself. He just enjoyed terrorizing people, and jealousy gave him a good excuse. Thankfully, men rarely noticed her, and that Tyroshi was just an exception. If she were a beauty, Gerold would have to fight a lot more duels.

The cruel Voice in her head disagreed, though. _“They will all leave you one day. Aegon for the Iron Throne, Oberyn for a lifetime of adventure in distant lands, Gerold for a more beautiful woman, and the Sand Snakes, when they realize you can never truly be one of them.”_

 _“Shut up,”_ she replied. _“My spies here told me that they had never seen Gerold with another woman. He is loyal to me.”_ She felt terrible about having spies at her lover’s holdfast, but she had to be sure. That was the only way to prove the Voice wrong.

“What is the matter?” Gerold’s question snapped her out of these thoughts.

She managed to silence the Voice once again, but she was afraid that one day she couldn’t. They said the Mad King had heard voices in his head as well. Mayhaps this was how it started…

“Nothing,” she said. “I also know you don’t want to miss this tourney. You want to prove your worth.”

He snorted. “Even if I won a victory in the fighting pits of Meereen, they still wouldn’t give me Dawn. But I can’t give up just yet.”

She knew it was a joke, but even the very thought was enough to unnerve her. The games in Essos were nothing like the Westerosi tournaments, there was no mercy in those pits. She had watched Gerold kill someone before, with her own eyes, and she didn’t know what could be more arousing than seeing how strong, fast, and ruthless his lover was in combat, but it didn’t mean she wanted him to fight to death, especially for the amusement of others.

“You are a Dayne, and a knight of Dorne, Gerold. Not some filthy slave,” she said with a mixture of pride and frustration, “Why would you fight in the pits?”

“Why not? Oberyn did, in his youth.”

She rolled her eyes. “And he calls _me_ reckless.”

“Are you not?” he asked, but it was more of a compliment than a complaint. And probably a subtle encouragement to convince her to stay.

“We have to go, Gerold, but I don’t want to think about it right now. Right now, I want you to fuck me.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

Feeling him inside her helped Rhaenys feel complete. _“The sun can only mate with the star,”_ Gerold always said. The sun and the star; they were now one body, one mind, one soul.

That night, she didn’t hear the Voice again.

…

They knew how cruel the sands were during the day, so they traveled at night and set up a camp when the sun came up. Gerold’s squire, a boy of three-and-ten, was coming with them. He didn’t talk much.When he didn’t put up the tents or watered the horses, it was quite easy to forget about his presence. Despite all the hardships, she liked traveling across the desert. She liked how fast her sand steed could run. She liked to know that both the sky and the sands witnessed their love every time she and Gerold coupled, while the squire was asleep in his tent. She liked to know that she belonged here, her mother’s land.

Sunspear was still exactly as she remembered. She mentally scoffed at her own paranoia. For some reason, she thought it was never going to be the same after Myrcella’s arrival. Yet, here it was, standing with all its glory—she knew it wasn’t the most beautiful castle in Westeros, but she didn’t care—as if a Lannister wasn’t breathing within its walls.

_What was I thinking? That a nine-year-old inbred Lannister whelp had the power to burn it to the ground?_

When the Threefold Gate opened for them, Gerold announced that they would walk from here, and told the squire to take the horses to the stables. He also reminded him that he would be staying in his paramour’s apartments, and not spend much time around the tournament pavilions. The boy left with the horses.

Rhaenys knew he had sent the squire away to be able to speak with her alone. She was right.

“We tried to kill a little girl once,” he whispered in her ear as they walked. “We can surely try again.”

“We tried, and we failed!” she reminded.

 _And it cost me all those things I could have learned from Oberyn about poisons_. When he found out that Rhaenys had stolen a vial of water from the Sorrows—mayhaps the most dangerous thing in Oberyn’s collection of deadly poisons—he had refused to continue to teach her what he had learned about poisons in the Citadel. That was her punishment. He was teaching Tyene now, but Tyene wasn’t allowed to speak with Rhaenys about those lessons either.

But she and Gerold weren’t just trying to kill the babe. They were hoping the disease would spread, and destroy Houses Baratheon and Lannister, root and stem. Unfortunately, Robert hadn’t even bothered to visit his newborn niece.

“We won’t fail this time.”

“Even if we succeeded, it would only start a war.”

“Isn’t that what we want?”

“Not yet. Dorne cannot wage war without allies. We are old enough to understand warfare now. We would only get everyone killed. I don’t want that for these people. Besides, I promised Oberyn.”

She hated Myrcella. She hadn’t seen her, yet she hated her still, and she would kill her with her bare hands if she knew the Lannisters wouldn’t hold the Martells responsible for her death. But she knew that they would, and she also knew they had the power to destroy Dorne. This was the only kingdom that had resisted the dragons, but those days were in the past now. War couldn’t be won with the stories of old, no matter how glorious those stories were.

As Doran had predicted, those who used to be the Usurper’s friends were now destroying each other. There was no reason to ruin this and unite them against an old enemy.

He smirked. “You really care about the people of Dorne, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Why?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged.

“Tell me,” she insisted.

“I am just sad that you will never get to rule this country. It is a shame when you think about it…”

So, was that his new fantasy now? Rhaenys, sitting in Nymeria’s seat… For some reason, the idea was much more tempting than the Iron Throne. But what Gerold suggested was insane. No matter how much she hated it, she was a Targaryen, not a Martell. And she would die before she usurped Trystane’s seat. He was a lovely child, and he was her blood. She believed Doran was wrong to shelter him from the ugly truth about his aunt’s fate, but it was hardly Trystane’s fault.

Frustrated, she shook her head, and let him see her anger, but Gerold’s attention had already shifted to something else.

“Look,” he whispered with a deadly smirk, showing her a knight she had never seen before. She didn’t know his name, but his shining armor and white cloak told her everything she needed to know. A Kingsguard. “That is Ser Arys Oakheart. The Daynes have been killing the Oakhearts for thousands of years… This one is mine, love.”

The Kingsguard didn’t even notice them, though, and went his own way.

 _What sort of fool would send an Oakheart to Dorne?_ she wondered. Sure, the feud between the Daynes and the Oakhearts was ancient history now, but Gerold took his family traditions very seriously. Too seriously, in fact. Still, it didn’t change the fact that Sunspear was swarming with Lannister men now. It was disgusting.

Suddenly, she hated herself for having left home. Aegon had asked her not to go. Blinded by rage, she had left her brother with these Lannister men, she had left him when he needed her the most, when Elia Martell’s murderers had sent their own princess here. Her mother’s voice echoed in his head once again. _“He is your baby now,”_ she had said before they left the two alone in that cold, dark passage. _“Take good care of him.”_ Those words had filled her heart with joy then. That silver-haired, purple-eyed little beauty was hers. She hadn’t thought it meant that she would never see her mother again.

 _“He is your baby, yet you left him,”_ the Voice said. _“You chose your lover over him. You are Rhaegar’s daughter, don’t you see?”_


	5. Princess Meria, Queen Rhaenys

Relief was a rare expression to see on Doran’s face. But now, his nephew’s magic seemed to have given him an ease he hadn’t felt in years. Oberyn had dabbled in sorcery in Oldtown when he was young, but he lacked the patience and determination Aegon had. Besides, most people didn’t know that, but convincing the orphans to train you in water magic was actually much more difficult than being allowed into the Citadel. The orphans of the Greenblood were usually peaceful, carefree fellows, but the descendants of Nymeria’s sorcerers had always been rather secretive, unwilling to share their teachings with outsiders. Still, Aegon had somehow impressed them, and they had been teaching him what they knew for the past five years.

Oberyn felt envy swell in his chest. He didn’t envy Aegon, no. He envied Rhaegar. And he hated himself for envying a ghost.

“Did I make you think that you had to make a choice between your father and us?” he asked softly.

Aegon was sitting at Doran’s feet, his mind fully focused on his uncle’s red, swollen joints. Oberyn hoped he wasn’t interrupting anything, but the question had already escaped his mouth.

The boy turned his head, but he was still averting his eyes, as if he had done something shameful. “No.”

“Yes,” he disagreed. “Yes, I made you think that you had to make a choice between your father and us. I am sorry.”

Doran was watching both of them carefully. He had chosen to remain silent since Aegon told them about _The Prince That Was Promised_ and the mysterious invitation from the High Priestess. Knowing him, it would be weeks, or even moons, before he revealed his opinion on this matter. Gods, what wouldn’t Oberyn do to know what he was thinking right now…

“Are you disappointed?”

“I am,” Oberyn admitted.

“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back like that.”

“You misunderstand me, Vorian. I am disappointed in myself. I shouldn’t have acted like I was your father.”

“You _are_ my father. You both are.”

A sad smiled played about Oberyn’s lips. “Mayhaps we shouldn’t be.”

Aegon opened his mouth to speak, but they heard a soft knock on the door before he could say anything. “Uncle Doran, may I come in?”

It was Rhaenys.

“You may enter, Meria,” Doran replied.

Aegon sprang to his feet with a bright smile on his face, and pulled her into a hug the moment she stepped inside the solar. “Welcome back, sister. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” The way she closed her eyes and inhaled Aegon’s scent reminded Oberyn of Elia. Seven hells, why did she have to look so much like her mother?

She went to Oberyn next, looking a bit unsure of herself. He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him directly in the eye. He wanted to know what she was thinking. He wanted to know if she had accepted Myrcella’s presence in Dorne in the past two moons at High Hermitage, or let Darkstar poison her mind instead.

But all he saw in his eyes was a sense of responsibility, and behind the responsibility, nothing. “I knew you would return,” he said.

“I knew I had to.”

Finally, she went to Doran, and knelt beside his rolling chair. She cocked an eyebrow when she saw his bare feet soaked in a large bowl of water. No doubt she wished gout was an enemy she could swing a sword at. Oberyn wished the same every time he looked at his brother.

“What is going on, Uncle?”

“Your brother is casting a healing spell on my gouty joints.”

Now that the pain was gone, he already looked stronger, and mayhaps, even younger. Oberyn realized he had missed seeing him like this. Yes, Doran had never been like his little brother, but there was a time he, too, was full of life. He used to burn as bright as the sun, and that was why Lady Mellario of Norvos had fallen for him.

When Lady Mellario had first came here, Oberyn had thought the two would be happy, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Things had become even worse after Doran had decided to send Quentyn to Yronwood to be fostered. That was how Doran was planning to repay the blood debt, for apparently Oberyn’s years in exile hadn’t been enough for the Yronwoods. Lady Mellario had found out about this plan shortly after Trystane’s birth, they had had a terrible fight, and she had returned to Norvos afterwards. A few years later, Quentyn had wanted to visit his mother in Norvos. Arianne had wanted to go with him as well. On their way to Norvos, their ship had sunk. The memory of his death niece and nephew still haunted Oberyn to this day. Had he not poisoned his blade before his duel with Edgar Yronwood, there would have been no blood debt to be paid. Lady Mellario might still be in Dorne. Arianne and Quentyn would still be alive.The gods hadn’t shown much mercy to House Martell lately. Even the Yronwoods must have pitied them, for they hadn’t demanded Trystane in Quentyn’s stead after this tragedy.

“You should have let him do this a long time ago,” Rhaenys said.

“This is temporary,” Aegon explained. “It will only give him enough strength for the tournament.”

“Speaking of, was this stupid tournament really necessary?”

“The Lannisters need to see our strength,” Doran replied.

“I thought we wanted to be underestimated.”

“We still do. But if they don’t fear us now, they won’t fear us when we need them to.”

“Can you be... less obscure?”

Doran smiled and stroked her cheek. “No.”

Rhaenys stood up. “I wish you trusted us as much as we trusted you.”

“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t let you come back here.”

She grimaced. “You think I am going to hurt Myrcella.”

 _Here we go_ , Oberyn thought.

“Can you blame me?”

“She is a Lannister,” she stated bitterly. “You can’t protect her forever.”

“She is my ward. I am honor-bound to protect her.”

“Your ward?” Rhaenys hissed. “If she is your ward, then what are we?” she said, looking at Aegon.

“You are my flesh and blood.”

“And she is a hostage! Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows that. No one expects you to keep her safe.”

“We don’t hurt little girls in Dorne, Meria.”

“I am not asking permission to hurt Myrcella, Uncle. At least not yet. I am not stupid, I understand why we have to wait until the War of the Five Kings is over. I understand the importance of a valuable hostage. But do you really have to indulge that little whore like this? If you sent the Sand Snakes to King’s Landing, do you honestly think they would be treated with respect? Let us teach that girl her place while she is still young enough to learn.”

“Like Aerys tried to teach you yours?” Doran asked coldly. “Careful, Meria. You are turning into the very thing you hate.”

She backed away from the rolling chair, as if it was the Mad King himself sitting in it now.

“Uncle!” Aegon snapped, putting his hand protectively on Rhaenys shoulders. “This has nothing to do with the Mad King.”

“We have to be better than our enemies,” Oberyn broke in quickly. “That was a lesson I should have taught you a long time ago, Meria.”

Rhaenys stroked Aegon’s cheek to soothe him before speaking. “The thing is, we are not better than our enemies right now either.”

Doran sighed. “What do you mean?”

“Rhaegar hid the she-wolf here, in his wife’s land, as if he hadn’t insulted her enough at Harrenhal! And now, you two… You have brought that inbred lionspawn here, and you ask me to join you as you disrespect my mother’s memory! I had to leave my brother when he needed me most, because I didn’t want to be a part of it. Tell me, what comes next? Will she dress like one of us, speak like one of us? Will she be a Princess of Dorne? Because that was my mother’s title, and you are giving it to Tywin’s granddaughter! We all know who her father really is, aren’t you worried about mad grandchildren, or mayhaps the girl herself is—“

“Myrcella seems like a decent young lady.”

“You can’t know that. There is no way to know that until it is too late.”

“Keep your voice down,” Doran warned her.

“Yes, yes… I know.” She began to pace up and down frantically, like a caged predator. “Look at us now! On my way here, I saw an Oakheart, walking around the castle as if he belonged here. We have to keep our voice down, speak in whispers, in our own palace from now on. Why? Because the bloody Lannisters are taking it over!”

With these words, she stormed off. Aegon attempted to go after her, but Oberyn stopped him.“You stay here and take care of your uncle. I will handle her.”

“Meria!” he called out. “Meria, wait!”

He wasn’t sure if she would obey, but she did.

Oberyn gently took her arm. “Would you come with me?”

“Is Doran not done with me yet?” she sneered.

“I am not taking you to Doran.”

“Alright,” she relented.

He was taking her to the top of the tower, where the throne room was. But first, they stopped in front of Meria Martell’s portrait. It had always been her favorite; the painting depicted the moment when Princess Meria spoke the words of House Martell: _Unbowed, unbent, unbroken…_ She was sitting in the seat with the blazing Dornish sun, and before her, stood the beautiful Queen Rhaenys.

“Do you remember the first time you saw this painting?” he asked.

“Of course I do. You said it was the portrait of my namesake. I still can’t decide if the joke is too subtle, or too obvious.”

“I didn’t give you this name because I thought it would make a good irony, Meria. I gave you this name because I needed you to stand unbowed, unbent, unbroken, just like Princess Meria.”

Oberyn gently patted on her shoulder, and they kept climbing the steps in silence. Soon, they found themselves in the throne room.

“Leave us,” he told the guards in the room.

“Fear not,” he said after they were gone, showing her the twin seats. “There will always be a Martell sitting in one of those seats. Dragons, roses, wolves, lions… They come and go, but House Martell remains.”

She crossed her arms. “Did you bring me all the way up here just to say this?”

“Why? Do you not like my lecture?” he teased, and managed to get a smile from Rhaenys.

The smile disappeared as quickly as it came, though. “What will happen to Myrcella? You can’t really let Trys marry her. Please tell me you have a plan.”

“I don’t,” he replied. “But your brother does.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “My brother? If I had my way, I would torture that little shit to death and send her back home wrapped in a Martell cloak when it was time to declare war. But Vorian? He is too noble for such thoughts.”

While everyone told a different story about Elia’s death, one thing was certain: She had been presented to the Usurper in a pretty Lannister cloak. Now Rhaenys wanted to do the same, only with a Lannister princess, and a Martell cloak.

“He is. But he thinks he can send her to the silent sisters once he becomes king. And her younger brother to the Wall.”

She crossed her arms. “Was this his idea, or yours?”

“His. He won’t let Trystane marry a Lannister, and Doran will have to obey his king. Your brother would do anything to see you happy, Meria. Besides, he is no fool. Soon, we will kill a lot of Lannisters, and he knows this is the only mercy he can show to the innocent ones.”

“ _Mercy_ is an understatement, considering what they did to my mother.”

No one knew how exactly Elia had died. All they had was rumors. Some said she had killed herself after hiding her children, but Oberyn didn’t believe that. She wouldn’t have returned to her chambers if she thought she was going to be harmed. Others said she had been raped and tortured until she bled to death. They said the Mountain had broken her fingers, cut off her nipples, gouged out her eyes, and then, she had died. When Jon Arryn visited Dorne, he had said Elia’s heart had failed her due to fear before the Mountain was able to do anything. It was plausible, of course, given how delicate her health was, but both Doran and Oberyn knew it was a lie. But the rest of the Seven Kingdoms didn’t. One day, Oberyn was going to make sure that the truth was revealed before he killed Tywin himself.

“Sometimes I envy Vorian,” Rhaenys went on. “He doesn’t remember her. But I do. I miss her so much.”

“His burden is already heavy enough, Meria. And we all know that he is not looking forward to being crowned.”

A look of guilt crossed her face. “What he asks of me… I wish I could do it. But I know I shouldn’t. I would only lead us to hell.”

Oberyn smiled. “You are like me. An old septon once claimed that I was the living proof of the goodness of the gods. If the gods were cruel, they would have made me my mother’s firstborn, and Doran the third. I think it is for the same reason they didn’t give you a cock when you came to this world.”

 “You don’t have to remind me that I don’t have my mother’s kindness.”

“Her kindness was a rare thing for a woman from our land. Don’t be so harsh on yourself.”

“By the way, that septon was wrong. You are not such a bad ruler… Uncle Doran trusts you for a reason.”

“He only trusts me because he knows he is still in charge. I simply do what he tells me to do. Speaking of, I should probably return to him. I don’t think he is done with me for today,” he chuckled, and put a kiss on her forehead before heading back to Doran’s apartments.

…

House Martell had always been the center of attention during such occasions, but now, there was only one thing everyone in the opening feast was talking about. The secret family heirlooms of the Ullers: The Valyrian steel longsword they had taken from Queen Rhaenys when she fell at Hellholt, and the armor they had made from her dragon’s hide. Ellaria’s uncle, Ser Ulwyk was said to be fighting in the melee, to give these priceless artifacts to the winner, and more importantly, not ransom them back. Like everyone else, Oberyn found this rather strange. Normally, knights would forfeit their armors and horses—and their weapons, if they fought in the melee—in tourneys, but they wouldn’t bring such family heirlooms to these events. It was even weirder that no one had ever heard of this sword and armor before. Aegon the Conqueror had Blackfyre, and Visenya had Dark Sister, but Rhaenys wasn’t known to wield any weapons. Lord Harmen had once shown Oberyn the torture chambers where Queen Rhaenys had been kept. He had told him that she had been tortured until Aegon stopped attacking Dorne, and only when he relented, she had been given the mercy of a quick death. But he hadn’t said anything about her sword. Or what they had done with Meraxes. Her skull had eventually been sent to King’s Landing, but everyone already knew that much.

“Did you know there was a Valyrian steel sword in Dorne?” he asked Doran, who was sitting on his left at the high table. Doran had been shaped to rule all his life, and taught secrets even Oberyn or Elia didn’t know. If anyone knew of this, it had to be him.

“No,” he shook his head. “I had no idea.”

He then spotted Ellaria, returning from tucking Loreza, Dorea, and Obella in for the night. It was getting late, and even Trystane looked a bit drowsy. The other Sand Snakes were wide awake, though, and enjoying the food and the wine. In other parts of Westeros, bastards sitting at the high table would be a scandal, but here, Oberyn’s children had their people’s love, and people would only complain if Doran didn’t give them a seat at the high table, not the other way around. Myrcella was observing the guests, her beautiful blue eyes wide open. She was a sweet child, nothing like her mother, grandfather, or as far as Oberyn knew, her elder brother. Joffrey was said to be a spoiled, vicious idiot, and whenever someone asked Myrcella about him, the poor girl moved uncomfortably—although she maintained a brave smile—as if she was scared of him. Oberyn didn’t think Aegon could send that one to the Wall when the time came. But tyrants like Joffrey didn’t deserve mercy anyway.

Rhaenys had properly introduced herself to Myrcella before the feast, as she had promised Oberyn. She had even curtsied, to his surprise, and apologized for her absence when Myrcella first arrived at Sunspear.

Soon, the music started, and Oberyn had the first dance with his paramour.

“Growing up, I don’t recall ever seeing that sword, or armor,” she said bitterly as they danced. “It appears I was never an Uller in my father’s eyes.”

He gently kissed Ellaria’s lips. “No, my love. You are a Sand, born of passion, and you have thousands of siblings.”

“Will you be fighting in the melee tomorrow?” she changed the subject.

“I am not sure.”

Jousting had always been more popular among knights, but now that there was a chance to win a Valyrian steel sword, and a dragon hide armor, no doubt there would be more people fighting in the melee. Oberyn knew he could best all of them, but he wanted another Martell to retrieve what had been taken from her mother’s family. This melee was the safest way for him to show Rhaenys how much faith he had in her, compared to all those reckless and foolish things she had done to prove herself. Mayhaps then, she would stop risking her life for nothing on every single opportunity that came to her way, as though this was the price she had to pay for Oberyn’s love.

The Ullers should have given those artifacts to House Martell a long time ago. Queen Rhaenys might have fallen at Hellholt, but Dorne had been able to resist the dragons thanks to the courage and determination of House Nymeros Martell. Had Princess Meria bent the knee, the rest would have had to follow her.

Oberyn danced with Nymeria next, who moved so gracefully that she looked like she was floating in her shimmering lilac dress. He looked at Obara with the corner of his eye; she was pouring herself yet another cup of Dornish red. No man was brave enough to ask her for a dance. Unlike Nymeria, Obara was always harsh and hasty. Oberyn would never force her to be ladylike, but sometimes he wondered if this was her way to punish herself for having been born from an Oldtown whore. She had never forgiven her mother for not being highborn and respectable enough for the daughter of a prince, although no one here really cared who her mother was.

He had to take Rhaenys from Darkstar for the third dance, and he made sure he shot Ser Gerold a sharp glare as he did. Rhaneys was wearing a plain, orange dress, and no jewelry. Similarly, her long, dark ringlets had been tied up in a tight, plain bun. Just like Obara punished herself for not being highborn enough, Rhaenys punished herself for her plain appearance.

Elia, too, wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, or even in Dorne, but she had made her peace with that. Rhaenys, on the other hand, had heard several people blame Elia for not being good enough for Rhaegar, including the Mad King himself, and was desperate to show the world that beauty didn’t determine a woman’s worth.

“See?” he asked. “Myrcella isn’t so bad. She is just a scared child. She reminds me of your childhood, in fact.”

“I was never scared,” she denied, but that wasn’t true. Oberyn would always recognize a frightened child.

Rhaenys, too, would move uncomfortably whenever someone talked about Aerys. For a long time, she had struggled to believe that he was truly dead. Sometimes, she would wake up screaming at night, claiming she had seen a dragon coming to get her. Oberyn had soon realized that the beast she saw in her nightmares was the Mad King himself, reborn from his ashes as a dragon. She would never talk about it much, but he and Doran now knew that the Mad King had terrorized Elia and her daughter during their last days in the Red Keep. He couldn’t have harmed them physically, of course, but  Oberyn couldn’t even imagine the things he must have told them in his madness. Calling Elia an unworthy bride could be the least of those things. That would also explain Rhaenys’ immeasurable hatred for incest. Like most maesters, she blamed the constant practice of marrying brother and sister for the infamous Targaryen madness.

"No,” he smiled, playing along. “Of course not. You have always been so brave. That is why you should be the one to bring Queen Rhaenys’ sword to where it belongs. To our family.”

“Why don’t you take it yourself? You like tournaments, and you have more experience than I do.”

“I am getting old,” he shrugged.

Rhaenys rolled her eyes. She very well knew that Oberyn would never feel too old to fight.

“I am better with a spear. That sword would be wasted on me, while we have you.”

She seemed amused. “Humility doesn’t suit you, Father.”

The song ended, though, and Rhaenys returned to the table without telling him whether she would be fighting tomorrow or not. But she was obviously tempted.

He kept dancing with his other daughters; Tyene, Sarella, and Elia, until the feast was over. By the end of the night, he returned to his bed chambers with Ellaria, but his bed wasn’t empty. Ser Daemon Sand was waiting for them, already naked and aroused. Oberyn had noticed that the boy had left the feast early, but he thought he would be in Aegon’s chambers instead.

“I thought he might want to join us,” Ellaria explained with a mischievous smile, as she began to pull his robes off.

“How thoughtful of you, my love.” With a single move, he tore her beautiful, revealing crimson dress open. Ellaria gasped.

“I loved that gown!” she scolded him, but she was giggling. She took his hands and led him to the bed, where Daemon was still waiting eagerly.

Daemon Sand was a handsome boy, he had proven himself to be a fine lover, but it had been a long time since Oberyn last saw him. He wondered which part of the tourneys was better; the competition, or the abundance of bedmates he and Ellaria could choose from.


	6. Dragonspawn

“Are you sure you want to miss it?” Gerold asked as he buttoned up his shirt. “This could be the greatest melee Dorne has ever seen.”

Rhaenys let out a bored sigh. “I told you, I don’t want anything that belonged to a dragon whore once. What about you?”

“I won’t settle for anything less than Dawn, love. Best I save my strength for the jousting. The honorable fools always prefer it to a good fight.”

She shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as she could as she sat in her bed. “If you say so…”

He gave her another passionate kiss before heading to the tournament grounds. Once Rhaenys was alone in her chambers, she got out of the bed quickly and took out a tourney sword from a chest. Damn, she hadn’t held a tourney sword in years. She gave it a couple of swings to test the balance. It didn’t feel much different from live steel, but of course, this one wouldn’t cut anything.

In truth, she indeed didn’t want to wield a sword that belonged to a Targaryen queen once—even if it was a Valyrian steel sword—especially the one Rhaegar had named her after. The armor, on the other hand, was different. Killing a dragon and making an armor out of her skin, it was such a mockery to House Targaryen… Rhaenys wanted to burst into laughter every time she imagined how the Mad King would have reacted if he had known such a thing existed. All her life, she had stubbornly refused to fight in tournaments, but that armor was worth an exception.

Her heart jumped when someone pounded on the door. Thankfully, it was only Elia. Rhaenys probably looked like a fool, swinging a sword in her nightshirt when Elia barged in. The girl was too excited to care, though, as she was going to be her sister’s squire today. Rhaenys would be fighting in the melee, not in the joust, but it was still a good chance for Elia to prove her worth as a squire. She was hoping she could squire for her father in the future, and be knighted by him once she came of age.

“I have cleaned your armor.” She showed her the leather armor proudly, then the shields bearing Meria Sand’s personal sigil: A viper coiled around her favored weapon, the longsword. “And I have prepared three shields, just like you asked.”

Rhaenys chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Good job, Elia.”

“I am glad you are fighting today. Father says that sword and armor belong to our family.”

“The Ullers might disagree with him, though. Queen Rhaenys was killed at Hellholt.”

“Then why are they just giving them away now?”

“I don’t know, sister.”

Rhaenys, too, found it a bit suspicious. As far as she knew, some noble houses had paid a fortune to the blacksmiths of Valyria for Valyrian steel ages ago, and none had forfeited them in tournaments before. They were too precious. Yet, Ser Ulwyk looked like as if he was in a hurry to get rid of his family’s heirlooms, and his brother didn’t seem to have a problem with it at all. _“Half of the Ullers are half-mad, and the other half are worse,”_ people said, but Rhaenys didn’t believe it. She had seen what true madness looked like, and the Ullers she knew didn’t have any of it. They seemed like reasonable people, but this time, there was nothing reasonable about this _generous_ offer of theirs.

Rhaenys lingered on purpose, and they arrived the tournament grounds in the last minute. She didn’t want Gerold to come to her help when he realized that she would be fighting, that was why she had lied to him. Yes, participants formed and broke alliances in a melee all the time, it was a common strategy, but if she and Gerold were the last ones standing, he would let her win, as he didn’t want Queen Rhaenys’ sword for himself. Everyone in Dorne knew they were lovers, and she didn’t want people to think she cheated, especially in the first tourney she had ever fought.

Most of the best fighters of Dorne were here, to be the probably first knight to win a Valyrian sword in a tournament, and the only known dragon hide armor in the whole world. She was surprised to find Oberyn sitting with the rest of the court, as he obviously wanted the prize for himself, or at least for a Martell. When he spotted Rhaenys among the other warriors, he smiled and nodded. Aegon was smiling, too. He didn’t seem surprised to see Rhaenys here at all. She wondered if he had seen this in a dream. It took a bit longer for Gerold to notice her, and when he did, he frowned, probably upset about the fact that he had been fooled by the woman he loved. Rhaenys gave him an apologetic shrug, but there was no time to talk; the melee was about to begin.

As the fighters walked into the arena, people cheered for them. But the loudest cheer was heard when the herald announced the name “Meria Sand.” Only Myrcella, and her companions, who had never seen a woman fighting in a tournament, were looking at her as if Rhaenys had just grown a second head. Well, even in Dorne, not many women fought in the tourneys, but people were eager to watch the Red Viper’s protégée in a fight.

Last year, there had been a mutiny at Ghaston Grey. Areo Hotah had sent his most trusted men to suppress it, but he had stayed at the Water Gardens, in case some of the prisoners got away and came to seek vengeance from Doran himself. Rhaenys had volunteered to take his place and lead the guards, but both Doran and Oberyn had refused. So, she had snuck out of Sunspear one night, and followed Hotah’s men. Her disobedience had saved a lot of lives. For her, Ghaston Grey was what the Smiling Knight had been for Ser Arthur Dayne, or Maelys the Monstrous for Ser Barristan Selmy. Now, no one in this tourney would underestimate the Sand Snake who had fought her way out of Ghaston Grey.

When the fight began, she quickly realized the tournaments were much harder than a real fight, though, at least for her. In a real fight, she was allowed to kill her opponents. She could open deep cuts in their legs and bring them to their knees, or if they were wearing a heavy armor, she could use the gaps in the armor to stab them. But now, none of these strategies was an option. She had never been in a situation in which she wasn’t allowed to kill or seriously harm anybody; a lack of experience which almost made her wish she wasn’t so damn proud and stubborn to avoid tournaments like the plague. Almost.

 _I still have my speed, and my technique_ , she reminded herself. She had also been taught not to give up easily.

So, she ducked, dodged, and let the big men knock each other to the ground, while disarming the others by using her tourney sword. It worked well, until someone caught her from behind, and they began to wrestle on the ground. This was Ser Gulian Qorgyle, she recalled, the heir to Sandstone. Ser Gulian sent her sword flying, and pinned her to the ground.

“You have fought well, Meria. Now, yield,” he advised. “You are not strong enough.”

Rhaenys turned her head to look at Oberyn. He seemed disappointed. He wanted the victor to be of House Martell, and he had so much faith in Rhaenys that he had let her fight in this melee in his stead.

“No,” she hissed. _I can’t fail Oberyn._

At that moment, someone else pressed his sword against Ser Gulian’s neck.

“I suggest you yield, ser,” Daemon Sand said.

Ser Gulian dropped his sword, and yielded. Ser Daemon helped Rhaenys stand up, and guarded her as she went to pick up her sword. Her shield had also been broken; Elia tossed her a new one.

“You are welcome,” he said when Rhaenys didn’t thank him. All her life, she had never felt inferior to someone like this in a fight before, and now she felt so embarrassed and disheartened. She wasn’t used to being humbled. She had refused to yield, but she very well knew that she would have had to, had it not been for the Bastard of Godsgrace. Daemon and Rhaenys had always respected each other as warriors, but that was all. They had never become good friends. Daemon despised Darkstar, and questioned Rhaenys’ good sense because of her affair with him. He got along quite well with Aegon and Oberyn, though.

“Tell me, Ser Daemon, for whose sake did you help me? My father’s, or my brother’s?”

Although Oberyn and Ser Daemon didn’t even bother to hide it, people rarely spoke of their affair to their faces. But the man Ser Daemon actually loved was Aegon. And Aegon… Well, he had had several bedmates, both men and women, including Ser Daemon, but he didn’t have strong feelings for any of them. His kindness and chivalry was simply a mask. A mask he enjoyed and was proud to wear, but a mask nevertheless. Rhaenys didn’t think he could ever open his heart to a lover. In a way, it was good, because no one would be able to wrap him around their fingers by using his feelings. But she was also worried, because a king needed a queen, and he was never going to make his queen happy, no matter how kind and chivalrous he was. Sooner or later, all women sought passion, and unhappy queens usually stirred trouble.

“I just want the prize,” Ser Daemon shrugged.

“Then you should have let Ser Gulian defeat me.” Now that she had a sword in her hand again, she had started feeling better, but the shame and frustration still lingered in there.

“I can defeat you myself once we make everyone else yield.”

“I didn’t know there were still people who underestimated me.”

“No one is invincible, Meria. Not even you.”

Things became easier for her once she and Ser Daemon started watching each other’s back. She was going to wake up with lots of bruises tomorrow, and there was a small cut on her forehead, but she had done it. Soon, only three fighters were standing: Ser Ulwyk, Ser Daemon, and Rhaenys. Unlike Gerold, Ser Daemon wouldn’t lose to her on purpose, so she broke their alliance and helped Ser Ulwyk knock him to the ground. Daemon Sand was young and quick, while Ser Ulwyk was older and thus, slower. When Ellaria’s uncle turned to her, Rhaenys hoped she had made the right choice.

 _"Win the sword,”_ the Voice told her. _“Not for Oberyn, but for yourself.”_

Yes, the dragon hide armor was a mockery to House Targaryen. But she then pictured the Mad King’s reaction if she, _the filthy Dornish whelp_ he resented so much, wielded Queen Rhaenys’ sword.

She felt the rage building up inside her once again when she remembered the guilt and the confusion of her childhood. One moment, she was the filthy Dornish whelp, who didn’t deserve to be the daughter of the beautiful dragon prince she worshiped, not good enough to be a true Targaryen, and next, she was _dragonspawn_ , people wanted to hunt her down like an animal, because she _was_ a Targaryen.

Which gave her the perfect idea…

“Tell me, Ser Ulywk, does Queen Rhaenys’ sword have a name?” she asked as their blunted swords met in the air.

“Not that I know of. Do you have a name in mind?”

“Aye,” she grinned. Their swords met once again. “Dragonspawn.”

Ser Ulywk narrowed his eyes in confusion, but didn’t comment on her choice of name.

It was a Targaryen sword, of course Rhaenys would give it a name that mocked their precious dragons.

He took a step back when he realized there were no openings in her guard, and waited for another opportunity to charge again.

There might be no openings in Rhaenys’ stance, but Rhaenys could see several on Ser Ulwyk’s. She didn’t have to wait for him to come at her. She charged at him instead, and soon, he, too, had yielded.

…

When she returned to Elia, she saw that there was someone else waiting for her. Garin, of the orphans. He was a good friend of Rhaenys’, and he had helped Aegon convince his elders to train him in water magic, which was something Aegon wanted so badly. Rhaenys owed Garin a debt because of that. And today, something seemed to bother him deeply.

Elia handed her a waterskin, and Rhaenys let her eager squire take the tourney sword and the shield as she greedily quenched her thirst. The water wasn’t enough, though, she needed to change her clothes as well, as she felt like she was going to drown in her own sweat after the fight. And as he was going to be riding tilts in the afternoon, both she and Gerold were going to need a bath tonight.

She put a hand on Garin’s shoulder. “It is so good to see you, Garin.”

“I didn’t know you would be fighting in the melee today.”

“Why? Were you going to ask me to wear your favor?” she laughed.

Garin crossed his arms. “You are not funny.”

She had never seen the gay Garin so frustrated before. Something was definitely wrong. “What is the matter?”

“Please don’t accept that sword, Meria.”

“Why?”

“Because the elders say it is cursed!”

Rhaenys couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t care much for water magic, and the elders of the Greenblood, but she knew it was important to his brother, and to Garin, so she did her best to respect them. But a _cursed_ sword? That sounded a bit absurd, to say the least.

“Look, Garin. I am grateful to the orphans for training Vorian, but that sword and armor should be put to good use.”

“Your choice,” he shrugged. “But I had to warn you. I had to warn whoever won that sword. It will bring you a horrible death.”

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. But I am not going to give it away just because your elders said so. Do you realize how rare Valyrian steel is?”

Rhaenys wanted to know what the orphans had against Queen Rhaenys’ sword—aside from their general distaste for the Valyrians—but she spotted Aegon hurrying towards her. That conversation was going to have to wait.

Aegon gave Garin a brief hug and asked him how he was doing. Then, he turned to Rhaenys.

“Can we talk? In private?” He seemed as troubled as Garin.

They went to Aegon’s solar, and she collapsed into a chair. Her knees were still shaking. How could she have known that a tournament, which was fought to entertain other people, was actually more difficult than a real fight?

Aegon flashed a nervous smile at her. “Jousting is usually easier than the melee. And less dangerous. That is why most knights prefer riding tilts.”

“Then _most knights_ are lazy,” she argued, too proud to admit that it hadn’t been an easy victory.

“I knew you would win. I had seen you with the same sword in your hand, in one of my dreams.”

“Please don’t tell me it is cursed,” she rolled her eyes.

“What?” he asked, startled.

“Garin said I shouldn’t accept that sword. He said it was cursed.”

“It might be, in a way…”

“Vorian, what do you mean? Why is everyone speaking in riddles today?”

“Sister, when you were gone, I did something. I bought a book Father had read in his youth. And I am not talking about Oberyn.”

Rhaenys shut her eyes wearily. Deep down, she had felt that coming. She had always felt that Aegon didn’t share the same hatred for Rhaegar. Yet, she had also hoped that she could change his mind and help him see the ugly truth. But who could blame him? He was going to take the Iron Throne as Rhaegar’s heir, not Oberyn’s… Her poor brother desperately wanted a legacy he could be proud of, even though there was no such legacy to be found in House Targaryen. Incest, kinslaying, betrayal, and madness… That was the Targaryen legacy.

“This book.” He slowly put a heavy book on her lap.

Rhaenys opened her eyes and looked. The title was written in High Valyrian. She had never wanted to learn it, but Oberyn hadn’t given her a choice. _The Prince That Was Promised,_ the title meant.

“I wanted to see if this book could be the reason why he went after Lyanna. I didn’t want to justify his actions, no. I simply refused to believe he left Mother for selfish reasons,” he defended himself.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, brother. I understand. I truly do. Tell me, what did you find?”

“A prophecy. That the Night King will return, and a hero with a flaming sword will stop him. I think Father was trying to fulfill that prophecy.”

“Vorian, the Night King is just some stupid Northern tale.”

“No, he is not. I have seen him in my dreams as well.”

The only magic Rhaenys wouldn’t doubt was Aegon’s magic. His dreams. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to frighten you.”

“Go on,” she said softly.

“There is not anything about Lyanna. But I found this.” He handed her a small piece of paper.

“Fuck!” Rhaenys hissed after reading the note. “If the red priests know that we are alive—“

“I think Kinvara wants to help us.”

“Haven’t you heard, Vorian? There is a red priestess who supports Stannis. If she has told him… Shit, they are going to ruin everything! How could this have happened? We were so careful…”

“Kinvara is not the priestess who supports Stannis. We must go to her, to gain her support. And, to find answers about Father.”

“Alright,” she decided. “Let’s travel to Volantis and see what Kinvara wants from us.”

“What?”

“Why do you look so confused?”

“I didn’t think it would be that easy. That you would believe me.”

“Look, Vorian… Mother once told me something about you. That a star had fallen the night you were conceived. She told me that you would be special, because stars wouldn’t fall for ordinary men. I would never doubt you, brother.”

Yes, their mother had told her. That was why Rhaenys had been the first to believe him when his dreams started. That was why she hadn’t been surprised at all when he wanted to learn magic. He was destined for greatness.

Suddenly, Aegon burst into tears. Rhaenys took him in her arms, and began to rock back and forth gently. “What is wrong?”

“The sword,” he managed to say.

“Wait… You said the hero who would stop the Night King would have a flaming sword. The sword you saw in my hand…”

“It was on fire. It was the Lightbringer.”

“Why is this such a bad thing?”

“Because, such a power only comes with blood magic. With sacrifice. You have to kill the person you love most.”

_I shouldn’t have laughed at Garin._

“You mean, I have to kill _you_?”

“Is there anyone you love more?” he asked with a sad smile.

No, there wasn’t. There was Obeyrn, of course, and Doran, Trystane, Ellaria, the Sand Snakes, and Gerold. But none of them could be a part of her like Aegon was. It was as if a missing extension of Rhaenys had followed her to this world four years after her own birth.

“If I have to sacrifice myself to save the realm,” he went on, “So be it, I am not afraid of death, but… I don’t want to leave you alone in this world with such a sorrow, sister.”

“Hush now,” she put a kiss on his forehead, not knowing what else to say. She would never doubt his gifts, no. But this time, he was wrong. She wasn’t a hero. She couldn’t be. “What you saw will never come true, Vorian.”

“How do you know?”

“Do you remember how you suffered redspots when you were six?”

“I do. Everyone kept away from me, even Maester Caleotte. Only you refused to leave my side. Eventually, you caught it yourself.”

“Caleotte had lied to me to get me out of your rooms. He had said I was too old to survive redspots, but I didn’t care. I had to stay with you. Do you understand now? I would never sacrifice you, not even to save the realm.”

“Sister, all those people…” he gaped at her. “What of Dorne?”

“I don’t care.” If it were her own life she had to give to save Dorne, she gladly would. But she wouldn’t sacrifice Aegon. “The Dornishmen might be our mother’s people, but you are her son. My choice is obvious. I am no hero, Aegon. Just a selfish bitch who loves her baby brother.”

“People can change.”

“Not that much,” she disagreed, gently wiping away his tears. “Why don’t you return to the tournament? I will join you soon, I just need to change out of this armor.”

Now that she thought about it, today’s melee had actually been an easy victory. Easier than it should have been, at least. Ser Ulwyk could be older and slower than Daemon or Rhaenys, but he was certainly much more experienced. He could have put up a much better fight if he had wished. Were the Ullers trying to get rid of Queen Rhaenys’ cursed sword? Why now, though? Why had they waited for three centuries to give it away?

…

Ser Ulwyk gave her the sword and the armor, and didn’t ransom them back, as he had promised. That evening, her newest possessions passed from hand to hand as Oberyn, Ellaria, and the Sand Snakes supped together in Oberyn’s solar, and although the girls never stopped teasing about how jealous they were of Rhaenys, all Rhaenys could see on their faces was pride, not jealousy, proving the Voice wrong once again.

Later, as she and Gerold relaxed in a bath that smelled of jasmine and orange blossoms, although he was still bitter about having been lied earlier, he promised her that she would be the queen of love and beauty the next day.

And the next day, Rhaenys gave him her favor to wear; a bronze handkerchief. The tradition was too ladylike for her taste, but she didn’t want other women to think Darkstar was available for their favors. Besides, she never liked lances, or riding tilts, so she wouldn’t mind sitting this one out, and let her paramour do the fighting.

Gerold loved to show people how merciless he fought. He especially unhorsed Ser Arys Oakheart in a particularly brutal way, but the Kingsguard would live. When she saw how the little golden-haired bitch panicked when her white knight fell from his horse, she flashed Gerold a wicked smile.

But in the final tilt, Darkstar was unhorsed by the Red Viper himself. The crowd cheered for him even more loudly than they had cheered for Rhaenys the other day, and he put a crown of desert roses on Ellaria’s lap.

After the tournament, Rhaenys sent the silvery dragon hide armor to the armorer to be readjusted, but she wasn’t sure what to do with Dragonspawn. She didn’t want it anymore, but if this was indeed the Lightbringer, it was too powerful to be given away to a stranger. But if it was cursed like Garin had said, she couldn’t give it to someone she loved and trusted either. In the end, it was still her burden to bear.

These were the thoughts on her mind as she watched Gerold packing his things.

“Do you have to go?” she suddenly asked.

“I better not overstay my welcome here,” he said dryly, but Rhaenys could see that he was tempted.

Rhaenys sighed. She hadn’t told him about the prophecy yet. Gerold was even more skeptical than her when it came to magic. She at least had Aegon to convince her that magic did exist. To Gerold, the reality of blood, steel, and death was the only reality there was. But Rhaegar’s prophecy was about to become a part of her life now, and Gerold needed to know about it.

“We will be on our way to Volantis soon,” she announced.

Gerold stopped packing. “Volantis? Please tell me Doran is sending you to Essos to find sellsword. Finally!”

“Not exactly,” she said, hating to disappoint him. “Vorian received a… letter from the High Priestess of the Red Temple.”

“There is something we need to talk about, isn’t there?”

“There is,” she replied, and told her about the book Aegon had ordered from Volantis, the prophecy, and Kinvara’s mysterious note.

“Damn it, Meria, are you really going to trust these crazy fanatics?” he said once she was finished.

“I am going to trust my brother. He wants answers, and he deserves to have them.”

“What about you? Are you doing this for your brother, or for Rhaegar?” he snarled.

Gerold hated Rhaegar as much as Rhaenys or Oberyn did, if not even more. After all, he was the reason Gerold’s father was on the Trident.

“I am just one of Rhaegar’s victims, like you. I have no love for him. He is no father of mine.”

She could almost hear the Voice scoffing. _“Liar!”_

“I know,” Gerold said darkly, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “Do you really think Rhaegar’s ghost steal you from me? You are mine, Princess, not his.”

“You deserve answers, too. Don’t you want to know what your father died for?” she asked in a small voice, too scared to lose the man she loved.

“He died fighting for Dorne, that is all I need to know.”

“Will you stay here until we leave?  I don’t know how long we will stay in Volantis.”

He dropped his sack on the floor, as if he was surrendering. “I would do anything for you, love.”

Rhaenys would ask him to come with them, but she knew he and Aegon didn’t get along well. She would never understand why everyone, even Aegon, disliked him so much. After all, they all wanted the same thing: Justice. She just hoped she would never have to make a choice between her lover and her family.


	7. Lion Blood, Dog Blood, Dragon Blood

Another wave of guilt hit Aegon when he woke up in his bed on his last morning in Dorne—he and Rhaenys were to leave tonight—and felt Daemon’s arm wrapped around his waist. Guilt was usually the most overwhelming emotion he felt when he was with Daemon Sand. Aegon should have let him go a long time ago, let him find someone worthy of his love. Someone honest, someone who didn’t have to live in the Red Keep one day, but could grow old with him in Dorne instead.

 _“You need to practice,”_ Oberyn had told him once he was old enough to understand why a king really needed a queen. _“You don’t want to embarrass yourself on your wedding night.”_

So, Aegon had started practicing, with girls first. His body enjoyed, even craved it, while his mind was just indifferent. Those girls meant nothing to him, although many were still desperately trying to steal his heart. He had tried bedding with boys, to see if it would be any better, but no. Still, he was more comfortable with boys, because at least he didn’t have to worry about siring any bastards. Not that he would be ashamed of having any bastards, but he would certainly be ashamed of having a child whose mother he couldn’t love or respect. Oberyn was somehow able to do it without breaking his children’s heart, but Aegon wasn’t Oberyn.

Daemon was in love with Aegon, though. He had never denied it. It hadn’t been easy for him to accept the fact that Aegon's heart was colder than ice when it came to passion, infatuation, or whatever it was lovers felt for each other. But in the end, he had made his peace with it, and he was even grateful that Aegon was at least willing to share his bed with him. _“It is better than losing you for good,”_ he had said. And he still had hope that he could change Aegon's cold, private nature.

He had to know, though. He had to know who Vorian Sand really was, and that this carefree way of life couldn’t last forever. But he wasn’t allowed to tell him yet. For Daemon’s own good.

“You are awake,” Daemon murmured and put a kiss on his shoulder.

“How did you know?”

“You had stopped snoring.”

“I don’t snore!”

Daemon chortled. “Yes, you do.”

Aegon turned in the bed to face him. He might not be in love, but he wasn’t blind either. Daemon was a handsome man. He had a soft, sweet smile of a boy, but the strong body of a warrior. They both did, which was why he sometimes thought they didn’t need to be in love to be perfect for each other. Yes, he was a selfish man. And if guilt was the price he had to pay to fuck Daemon, he was going to keep paying it for a little while longer.

Daemon grinned when he caught Aegon staring at his bare chest. “You want me…”

“I do,” he admitted.

“Come to Godsgrace with me, then. Don’t go to Myr.”

“I told you, Meria wants to visit her mother. We are leaving tonight.” This was the lie they were going to tell everyone to explain their long absence; that Meria was visiting her mother in Myr, and Vorian was going with her. They were indeed going to Myr first, but after spending a couple of days in Myr, they were going to find another ship to Volantis.

“Aye, Vorian. _Her_ mother, not yours.”

Aegon couldn’t correct him.

“I am sorry,” he said quickly when he saw the pained look on Aegon’s face. Daemon might not know who Vorian’s mother truly was, but he certainly knew growing up without a mother had been painful for him.

“It is alright.”

“No, it is not. You are hurt. I hate to see you hurt. I wish you would just give yourself to me. I would make you the happiest man in this realm.”

“I am already yours.”

“I am not talking about this,” he said, stroking Aegon’s cock with one hand. Then, he put the same hand on his chest, where his heart was. “I am talking about _this_.”

“I told you, my heart belongs to no one. Mayhaps I am a monster.”

“I think you are just afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of weakness… Come with me.”

“I am sorry, Daemon. I can’t. I have to go to Myr.”

“Fine,” he gave in and got out of the bed.

 _Forgive me, Daemon_ , Aegon told himself as he watched him get dressed. _The answers I seek are in Volantis, not at Godsgrace._

…

This wasn’t Aegon’s first time away from Dorne. He had been to Lys once, with Oberyn, to investigate the rumors about another child the Red Viper had fathered, but in the end, those rumors had turned out to be false. And two years ago, he, Nym, and Sarella had traveled to the Summer Isles to see Sarella’s mother. But this time, his journey to Volantis was no leisurely trip.

Their ship docked at the shores of Volantis quite late in the night. They were tired and hungry, so they decided to find an inn to have supper and spend the night before they visited the Red Temple the next day.

Although the sun had set, it was still quite hot, and the streets were crowded. Slaves, freedmen, and foreigners were mostly restricted to this western half of the city, no wonder there were criminals lurking around as well. Aegon instinctively wrapped an arm around Rhaenys’ shoulders, earning a chuckle from her.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. You just seem so… protective since we left home.”

“I know Mother made you promise that you would take good care of me, but now that I am a man grown, I think that promise goes both ways.”

“Does it, now?” She punched him in the stomach playfully, but Aegon only pulled her closer in response.

Aegon might be struggling to be a good lover or a good friend, but being a brother—or a son—had always been easy for him. It was so simple, so natural. Even before he had been told the truth about his parentage, he would always go to Meria every time he wanted a mother. And Meria would give him all the love he needed. Even then, he knew that she was different from his other sisters, that she was special to him. Of course, he loved the other Sand Snakes as well, he would give his life for any of them; but he didn’t think he could have coped with the truth about his family and the burden on his shoulders without Rhaenys. Robert had killed his father on the Trident. Tywin had sent the Mountain to rape and murder his mother. Aerys had robbed him of his birthright by naming Viserys his heir. Rhaenys was the only thing his enemies hadn’t been able to take from him.

Oberyn had told them to go to Merchant’s House on Fishmonger’s Square if they needed a place to eat and sleep, so they walked around a while to find the inn. The common room was packed with sailors, captains, traders from all around the world, even masked shadowbinders from Asshai. At least half a hundred different tongues echoed in the hall. Aegon and Rhaenys found an empty table in a corner, and ordered two pies. A serving wench brought them ale.

“It is nice, you know,” he said as they ate their pies, “To have an adventure like this, with you.”

“You have always wanted to be an adventurer.”

“I have.”

He had grown up listening to Oberyn's adventures in Essos. When Aegon was six, Oberyn had invited a man named Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos, to Dorne, to train Rhaenys—Oberyn believed a prodigy like Rhaenys needed more than one teacher—in the Braavosi Water Dance. He had liked the funny, eccentric stranger so much that he had decided to become an adventurer and meet more people like Syrio Forel. Of course, back then, he didn’t know he was destined to become a king. He wondered where Syrio Forel was now.

“I am sorry we have to do this to you, brother.”

“Don’t be. Being an adventurer would make me happy, but so would keeping our family safe. And unless one of us sits in the throne, we will never be safe.”

They finished their supper in silence, then rented a cheap room on the fourth floor. Oberyn had given them a generous amount of gold before they left Dorne, but it would be wise to spend it carefully. The room was full of an unpleasant smell, and their sagging featherbeds smelled even worse. Aegon grimaced when he saw the iron rings in the wall. He knew that they were used to chain up slaves. But as Oberyn said, discomfort was an inevitable part of an adventure. Still, he rolled in his unfamiliar bed for hours. It was too dark for him to see her face, but he could feel that Rhaenys, too, was awake.

To his surprise, she was the one who broke the silence. “Vorian…”

“Yes?”

“You and Ser Daemon get along quite well, right?”

“We do.”

“Are you _certain_ that you are not in love with him?”

“I wish I were.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes I feel like I am using him.”

“Whatever it is, you need to end it soon, brother.”

He sighed heavily. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Once you are a Targaryen again, people cannot know that you bed with men.”

“Why? Oberyn beds with men, and no one gives a shit.”

“Well, we are not trying to put Oberyn on the Iron Throne, are we? King’s Landing will be nothing like Dorne, Vorian. People will try to use such things against you, you can’t afford to show any weakness.”

“The first Aegon married both his sisters, no one tried to use that against him. He changed the rules.”

“He changed the rules with three overgrown fire-breathing lizards! Please, Vorian… Break Daemon’s heart if you must, but this needs to end, one way or the other.”

“Even if I do, some will still remember. They will talk.”

“Those will shut up once you have an heir. You don’t have a problem with that, right? Making an heir?”

“No, no… I have been avoiding girls lately because I don’t want to have any bastards.”

“Good.”

“Who do you think I am going to marry?” he suddenly asked. This was one of the best aspects of not being in love. At least marrying for power would be much easier.

“I am sure Doran has several ideas. Don’t worry, we will make sure she is a decent girl. _I_ will make sure she is a decent girl,” she replied in a dutiful tone.

He thanked her, not sure what else to say, then another thought—an unpleasant one— occurred to him. “Do you think Doran has any _ideas_ for you as well?”

“Probably. I told him I would marry Walder Frey if that was what it took to keep you safe.”

He groaned in disgust. “You can’t be serious… Why don’t you just elope with Darkstar?”

“Because, brother, that would be a very stupid thing to do,” she grunted.

“Why? Doran himself married for love. Didn’t Oberyn once told us that even Tywin had married for love as well? That his wife and our grandmother were good friends?”

“Dorne wasn’t in desperate need for allies when Doran married Lady Mellario, and, well… Tywin Lannister is Tywin Lannister, the richest and the most feared man in Westeros. Do I need to say more?”

“I think you should marry Darkstar.”

“Why? House Dayne is already loyal to us. They have kept our secret so far, haven’t they?”

“Exactly. What if they expect a reward in return? Gerold might be a cunt, but he is not entirely wrong about the Daynes of Starfall. Two Daynes died during the War of the Usurper. Three, if you blame the Starks for Lady Ashara’s death, yet they still have so much respect for the Usurper’s best friend. Don’t you find it a bit suspicious?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a feeling that we might not be the only secret of Starfall. If you married a Dayne, that would ensure their loyalty. There is Edric Dayne, of course, but he is too young for you. And… I don’t like Darkstar, but at least I know him. I know you would be happy with him.”

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. Aegon could feel that she was convinced. At least about the possibility that the fate of Elia’s children might not be the only secret the Daynes of Starfall kept.

“Will you at least think about it?”

“I will. Goodnight, brother.”

Aegon didn’t speak again, and let Rhaenys get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

…

They left the inn in the morning. It was a short walk from Merchant’s House to the famous Long Bridge, which joined the western and eastern halves of Volantis. It was a great span with a fused stone road, supported by massive piers. Buildings rose on the sides of this road; shops, taverns, inns, brothels. Still, in some places it was possible to catch a glimpse of Rhoyne. The severed hands of thieves and heads of executed criminals were being displayed in the center of the bridge.

Aegon had never been in such a suffocating crowd before. He and Rhaenys could barely make their way among carts, wayns, _hathays_ , slaves, masters, merchants, and customers. Thankfully, the crowd thinned as they approached the eastern end.

They could see the Red Temple now in the distance, and even the Black Wall. Nym’s mother lived somewhere within those walls, he remembered, but apparently Nym had no interest in visiting her. Aegon had offered Nym to come with them and see her mother, but she had refused, which had appalled Aegon. Apparently, not everyone needed a mother as much as he did.

“Here we are,” Rhaenys said. “Are you ready?”

Aegon nodded.

As they climbed up the marble steps to the main entrance, he noticed two men in red robes standing guard at the gates, with the same stern, devout expression on their faces. And the tattooed flames across their cheeks. The tattoo of the Fiery Hand.

 _“Valar Morghulis,"_ Aegon greeted them, trying to sound as confident as possible.

 _"Valar Dohaeris,"_ one of the guards replied.

He wasn't sure if these people spoke the common tongue, so he kept speaking in Valyrian. _"We are here for—"_

But that wasn’t necessary. The guards opened the gates without a word, and let them in, as if they knew who the siblings were.

There were a few priests and priestesses in the vast front hall, and more of the Fiery Hand standing guard, but none turned to look at the two. Aegon felt like they were invisible. Could one of these people be the High Priestess?

 _“Prince Aegon?”_ A Fiery Hand asked in Valyrian. His voice echoed in the walls, startling the siblings. Back in Dorne, they had a rule. They never used their real names, not even when they were alone. Aegon felt weird to hear his name and title spoken out loud like this for the first time.

 _“Yes?”_

_“Follow me.”_

He lost track of how many flights they climbed before the Fiery Hand led them to the guest chambers. They left their sacks and their weapons here, then, they climbed up more steps, and he took them into a circular, windowless room. It was empty, save for at least a dozen fluted columns surrounding it, and a torch standing in the center, illuminating the room.

The guard waited until a red priestess appeared from behind one of these columns to introduce her.

 _“You stand in the presence of Kinvara, High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, the First Servant of the Lord of Light,”_ he announced.

Kinvara nodded to him, and the guard left.

She was a beautiful woman. There was something intimidating about her presence, though. Even more intimidating than the Fiery Hand, although her face was much softer.

“Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys. Welcome,” she said in the common tongue after studying them for a moment.

“Thank you, Lady Kinvara,” he said. “But please don’t call us by those names.”

She approached him and gently ran her fingers through his dyed hair. “There is no reason for you to hide anymore. The time has come.”

“That is not for you to decide,” Rhaenys chimed in. “We will not start a war until Dorne is ready.”

The High Priestess turned to her, and took Rhaenys’ hands into hers. When she did that, her eyes widened as if she had seen something terrifying. “But you crave it,” Kinvara gasped. “You crave blood, Rhaenys Targaryen, and blood you shall have. Lion blood, dog blood, dragon blood. The last one will be your undoing.”

Rhaenys frowned in confusion, and Kinvara returned to Aegon. “Did you read the book I sent you?”

“How did you know I wanted to read it?”

“How do you think?”

“You saw a vision in the flames. Your order practices blood magic,” he said, with a hint of accusation in his voice.

“We do, indeed. And you consider it to be foul and cruel. But tell me, my prince, do you think water is _purer_ than blood?”

“I didn’t come here to learn blood magic,” he cut her off.

“No, you came here to learn what your father really died for. The answer is in the flames.” She showed them the torch with her hand. “Shall we?”

He looked at Rhaenys, who gave him a brief nod. “Fine,” he gave in.

They gathered around the torch and looked into the roaring flames. At first, he saw nothing. Then, two people began to appear, a woman nursing a newborn babe in a wooden bed, and a man standing beside her. She looked so much like Rhaenys that Aegon didn’t have to guess who she was. All his life, Aegon wanted to know what his mother was like, and now, there she was. Elia Martell, holding her son in her arms. This was by far the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wanted to burst into tears when he saw the affection in her dark eyes. He didn’t have to rely on stories anymore to understand how much he was loved by his mother. He _knew_ how much she had loved him. Then he recalled her terrible fate, and for the first time in his life, he wanted to turn into a dragon, a real dragon, and burn every single person who had played a part in that fate. He wanted to hear their screams, taste their blood. Aegon would conquer the world for her.

Then, his attention shifted to the silver-haired man. Even if there was any love in his indigo eyes, it was overshadowed by sadness. Why would a man be sad to lay eyes upon his newborn child? _Didn’t he want me?_ Aegon wondered. _Did he wish it was Lyanna sitting in this bed instead? Was he so ungrateful?_

“Aegon,” he said, his voice erasing Aegon’s doubts. All the love his sad eyes concealed, could be heard in his voice. “What better name for a king?”

“Will you make a song for him?”

“He has a song. He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire. But there must be one more. The dragon has three heads.”

“I can give you one more. The maesters didn’t say I couldn’t bear another child, they only said—“

Rhaegar gently placed a finger on her lips to silence her. “They said it would _kill_ you. No, Elia. I will not murder my wife,” he said firmly.

 _I was right about him_ , Aegon thought proudly. Rhaegar Targaryen wasn’t someone who would humiliate his wife, or abandon his family for selfish desires.

The vision ended there, though. He glanced toward Rhaenys, whose face was now as hard as stone. Kinvara had put a hand on her shoulder. “You understand it now, don’t you, Princess? Hate cannot exist without love, just as shadows cannot exist without light. The brighter it burns, the darker shadows it casts.”

“I don’t need your tricks to remember how much I love my mother.”

“I am not talking about your mother.”

Rhaenys shook Kinvara off, and turned her back to the torch stubbornly. Kinvara decided to ignore her once again, like she was a child throwing an annoying, but harmless tantrum. Aegon, on the other hand, didn’t think it was a good idea to force her to speak about Rhaegar. _Gods help me if she goes into one of her dark moods._

“Well, you have your answer now,” the High Priestess told Aegon.

Aegon remembered his father’s words. _The dragon has three heads._ “So, he needed a third child? Why? There was nothing written about the dragon having three heads in that book.”

“That book was only the beginning of your father’s quest. For years, he thought he was the prince that was promised, until I sent him one of my priests, and he showed him a vision in the flames, just like I have just shown you. After that, he realized he was wrong.”

“What did he see?”

“I don’t know. None of us does. The vision was for him, and him alone. What we know is, this time Azor Ahai will be reborn in three different bodies. The three heads of the dragon.”

“So, that was why he took Lyanna. To have the third child,” Rhaenys, to Aegon’s surprise, had decided to join the discussion. “Why Lyanna, though? I am sure there were many other maidens who weren’t promised to anyone. He could have done this without starting a war.”

“I wish I had the answer, Princess. All I can say is that your father knew something we don’t.”

“But he died. So, there is no third head now. Are we all doomed?” Aegon asked.

“You are not the only dragons in the world.”

“Viserys and Daenerys… But they are Rhaegar’s siblings, not his children.”

“Does it matter? They are still his blood. And… Prince Viserys is dead.”

“What?”

“The Dothraki didn’t honor the bargain they had made. Viserys drew his sword and threatened to kill his sister, and her unborn son… In Vaes Dothrak.”

“That sounds like a foolish thing to do.” Aegon knew he was supposed to be sorry to hear this, but he wasn’t.

“Indeed it was.”

“Where is Daenerys now?”

“Would you like to see?”

“I think I have seen enough for one day.”

“Very well. Daenerys is a widow now. _Khal_ Drogo is dead, too.”

Aegon had never thought Daenerys could outlive her husband, but apparently she had. Well, even in that case, he still had to get her out of Vaes Dothrak. That was where the widows of dead _Khal_ s were supposed to spend the rest of their lives. She couldn’t save the Seven Kingdoms from there.

“Can you help us? To get her out of Vaes Dothrak?”

Kinvara chuckled again, as if this was a riddle neither of the siblings was clever enough to solve.

“What?” he asked, offended. “I thought you would ask us to prepare Daenerys for her destiny.”

“Oh, I want you to prepare for her destiny. But she is not in Vaes Dothrak either.”

“Where is she, then?”

“Right now, she is in Astapor. She has freed the slaves and burnt the masters for their sins. The Unsullied has chosen to serve her, as free men.”

“With her husband’s _khalasar_?” he asked in disbelief. The Dothraki would fight for many things, but Aegon didn’t think the freedom of slaves was one of them.

“The Dothraki are not ready to follow a woman yet, no matter what she does. Thankfully, she has loyal advisors.”

“You can’t conquer a city with advisors.”

“No. But you can conquer it with dragons.”

“Dragons?”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me. That is why I wanted to show you. Daenerys Targaryen has hatched three petrified dragon eggs, by sacrificing three lives. She woke them from the stone, just like the prophecy had foretold. You must find her, claim what is yours, and prepare her for her destiny. Yunkai and Meereen will be her next conquests. But she has to make a choice. She will either keep fighting to break chains in Essos for years to come, or she will return home. You must remind her where she truly belongs.”

“How old are these dragons?” he asked.

“Not old enough to ride. But old enough to breathe fire.”

“Does she know we are alive?”

“No. She thinks she is the last Targaryen, and the rightful queen. That gives you only one choice, my prince.”

“I have to marry her…”

 _This changes everything_ , he thought. Daenerys wasn’t a helpless girl waiting to be saved. She was a queen, who had brought the dragons back, conquered an ancient city, and freed an army of slaves. Which was much more than what Aegon had ever accomplished. He couldn’t go to her and ask her hand in marriage, and two of her dragons like a beggar.

He shook his head. “I—I can’t.”

“Why not? Because you are too proud?”

“A king needs to have some dignity.”

“A king needs to make sacrifices for his people. Your father sacrificed his life for the third head of the dragon. Aren’t you willing to sacrifice your pride, at least?”

“Aye, he sacrificed his life for nothing. He died before he could have his third child. If you are wrong about this, I will look like a fool.”

“And what if I am right? If the Great Other triumphs, just because you refused to swallow up your pride and bring Daenerys Stormborn home, that will be your legacy. Is this what you want?”

Aegon let out a desperate sigh. “I need time to think.”

“Of course,” Kinvara said, with a smile that unnerved Aegon for some reason.


	8. Rhaegar's Sacrifice

For seventeen years, Aegon and Rhaenys had enjoyed every luxury Dorne had to offer, while Daenerys and her brother had run from Robert’s wrath and endured hardships beyond Aegon’s imagination. He knew Daenerys would blame them for her sufferings. Aegon would, if he were her. There was a time Aegon had pitied his aunt, but that was all. He had never been able to feel any sense of responsibility for Daenerys, no matter how hard he had tried. He didn’t even have the slightest desire to meet her, let alone marry her. Why would he? Her mother had been sent to Dragonstone, while Aegon’s had been kept in the Red Keep as a hostage. It was a cruel way of thinking, but Aegon wasn’t as noble as everyone thought he was. The Mad King’s daughter was supposed to come to him and apologize for her father’s actions, not the other way around.

And yet, while Daenerys was hatching the dragons eggs, gathering an army, and sacking cities, Aegon was still hiding like a coward in his uncle’s palace. Rhaenys thought they should lie to Daenerys about their past, if Aegon decided to heed Kinvara’s advice. They should not speak in Dornish accent, dress in the Dornish garb, or say anything about Dorne at all. If Daenerys didn’t think they had had the power to help her all these years, she couldn’t blame them, could she? And if she somehow discovered the truth, Aegon could tell her that he had lied to keep Dorne out of the war, which wasn’t even exactly a lie. Dorne didn’t have the power to wage war alone—if it did, Aegon would be sitting in the Iron Throne right now—and if the Lannisters found out that Doran Martell had been sheltering the Targaryens, they would get Myrcella out of there first, and then burn Sunspear to the ground. Stannis would do the same, only he wouldn’t bother to rescue Myrcella. So, it was essential to lie about Dorne until Aegon had his own army, whether he liked it or not. _“I know you want to take the most honorable path,”_ Rhaenys had said, _“But the most honorable path is usually also the most foolish one. We must protect what is ours, at any cost.”_

He found Rhaenys exactly as he had left last night, sitting on the edge of her bed, with her shoulders drooping, her head bowed in desperation. He suspected she might have sat here like this all night.

He crossed to her. “Sister?”

“Yes?” she asked dryly without looking at him.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded, sitting next to her and taking her hands into his. “Say something.”

“I have already told—“

“Yes,” he interrupted. “You have given me excellent advice on how to maintain my dignity. That is not what I need to know.”

“What do you need to know?”

“I need to know what _you_ want.”

“What I want is irrelevant.”

“Not to me.”

“Well, if you must know…” she chuckled bitterly, “I don’t want to be a Targaryen again. I don’t want _you_ to become a Targaryen again. Because no good ever comes from that name. I don’t want you to marry the Mad King’s daughter. I don’t want to worry about mad nieces and nephews.”

“We need the Targaryen name to avenge our family.”

“You don’t need to remind me of that.”

“Mayhaps Daenerys only wants to be a queen because she thinks she is the last Targaryen. If she respects my claim, I might not have to make a choice between fighting her or marrying her.”

“You and I both know that it is not likely to happen.”

“People don’t give up on power so easily, I know. I would, though. If her mother had not been sent to Dragonstone for protection while ours was seen as a traitor, I would renounce my claim. But after everything that happened, we cannot bow so easily.” He remembered the lovely, delicate woman he had seen in the flames the other day, and clenched his fists angrily.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” she said, stroking his hair. “I know you only want the throne to protect us. To make sure what happened to Mother will never happen to us.”

“Sometimes I envy you,” he confessed. “When you have to make a choice between me and the realm, you can tell the realm to fuck off and don’t even think twice about it.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment?”

“I just wish I didn’t feel so torn apart right now,” he sighed.

“I suppose that is how kings feel all the time.”

“You look like you need some sleep,” he changed the subject when he remembered that he wasn’t the only one who felt torn apart.

“No, I am fine… But I think I need some air.”

“Let’s go explore Volantis, then,” he grinned.

He was in a foreign land as he had always wanted, and this was his last chance to feel like a true adventurer. No matter what choice he made, it would be the first real choice he made as a king, and there would be no turning back. It still terrified him, but he was ready.

They bought oysters from a fishmonger on the Long Bridge, found a cliff that overlooked Rhoyne, sat down, using the edge of the cliff as a seat, and began eating.

“These are delicious!” Aegon said as he devoured another oyster.

Rhaenys smiled, but her eyes were focused on something in the distance. It was one of the statues that decorated the bridge, he realized; a dragon carved out of black stone.

“You haven’t told me what you think of the dragons,” he reminded his sister.

Even the mere thought of the dragons seemed to have sickened her. “I think the world is better off without them.”

“Had it not been for the dragons, Nymeria would have never come to Dorne, though. There would be no House Nymeros Martell.”

“You are right, I guess…”

“I know about Balerion,” he added.

“Everyone knows about Balerion.”

“No, I mean, _your_ Balerion,” he smiled. It was a strange thing, to picture Rhaenys as a sweet little girl, playing with a black kitten and pretending it was a dragon. He would love to see her so happy and innocent, without all that pain consuming her, at least just for once.

She narrowed her eyes, not pleased. “Who told you?”

“Oberyn.”

“I was a stupid girl,” she muttered.

“Wouldn’t you like to ride a dragon?”

“The only dragon I need is you, brother, and rest assured, I have no desire to ride you. Brotherfucking is for the Targaryen whores.”

Aegon smiled. She would only make condescending jokes about incest if she was in a good mood.

“If one of them chooses you, you won’t have a choice, though.”

“We don’t even know if Daenerys will agree to give you her hand in marriage,” she said quickly, as if she was in denial.

“She has to, if she wants to be a queen.”

“What about you? Do you want one of those things?”

If he said he didn’t, that would be a lie. Prophecy or not, he _did_ desire a dragon. Ever since he was a little boy. Who wouldn’t want to fly? He knew dragons were fire made flesh, everything that the Rhoynar, and their magic stood against. He wondered if Nymeria herself would ride a dragon if she could. _I am a hypocrite_ , he thought. _But I guess everyone is, to some extent. Even the noblest of us._

When he reached for another oyster, he realized that there was none left.

“Come on,” Rhaenys said. “Let’s take a walk. We can buy more oysters on our way back if you want.”

As they strolled around the western half, they came across a crowd that had gathered around the stage decorated with the poor imitations of the Targaryen and Baratheon sigils. The siblings were drawn to it like a moth was drawn to a flame.

Was it simply a coincidence, or an act of Kinvara’s Lord to help him make up his mind, Aegon didn’t know, but the play was about the War of the Usurper. Elia Martell was portrayed as a vile, unfaithful wife, and people cheered when she was finally raped and murdered by the Mountain, for it was apparently what she deserved. Rhaegar’s portrayal was equally horrifying. Driven mad by his terrible wife, he abducted Lyanna Stark and raped her to death. Robert Baratheon, despite his courage, was too late to save his true love, but at least he avenged her in the end. By the time the actors and actresses saluted the audience, everyone was crying over the poor Westerosi lovers.

_This was his sacrifice_ , Aegon thought as they returned to the temple in silence, for they both would choke on words if they tried to say anything. The siblings couldn’t even look each other in the eye, but they were holding hands tightly. _He died trying to save the realm, yet everyone now thinks he is a rapist. And here I was, whining about how my aunt would consider me a beggar… If I am Rhaegar’s heir, I must be willing to make the same sacrifice. I owe him that much._

“We have to find Daenerys,” he declared.

“You have made up your mind, then.”

They were standing at the foot of the marble steps to the temple now. “Aye. Father loved us, sister, you have seen it, too. Now we know why he left us. He didn’t fight for Lyanna, he fought to find a way to save the realm without sacrificing Mother. We have to make sure he didn’t die in vain. And once we have the power to rewrite the history, we will let the realm see how much our parents loved and respected each other, I swear it.”

“He might have cared about Mother, but I still don’t think he loved us. To him, we were nothing more than his weapons against the Night King. He was just recreating the first Aegon and his sisters. “

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t believe that. If that had been true, he would have named you after Queen Visenya. After all, she was the elder sister.”

“And a great warrior. Mayhaps he never wanted me to be great. He wanted me to be a useless bitch like Rhaenys. I bet he wanted the greatness for his daughter by Lyanna,” she snorted, but then wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand.

“Right, Visenya was a great warrior. She was also stern, serious, and unforgiving. Do you have any idea how boring that sounds? Rhaneys never liked killing. She liked singing and flying. It is easy to see why she was the favorite. And I think Father wanted you to be his favorite as well. Come on, sister, he was a poet!”

Rhaenys looked at him in disbelief. He understood why it was difficult for her. For the first time in his life, she was hearing a compelling argument about why she was actually loved deeply by her father. Aegon had waited to tell her this for a very, very long time.

“ _Stern, serious, and unforgiving_ … That is me, though. I guess I have disappointed you both.”

“No, Meria, it is just a shell. You have tried so hard to be Father’s Visenya. But I know you better than that.”

She shut her eyes, and another tear fell. “I am ugly, and I can’t even sing. I don’t deserve to bear Queen Rhaenys’ name.”

True, Rhaenys was hopeless when it came to music or poetry, and he had to admit that she wasn’t exactly a beauty, but for Aegon, none of these mattered.

“At least,” she took a deep breath, “You have enough beauty for both of us… And I am glad you finally have a father to be proud of. Rhaegar was trying to protect Mother. He might have failed spectacularly at that, but, well… He tried.”

“Sister, do you really think I bought that book for myself? I knew you were too proud to seek the truth, so I had to do it for you. I couldn’t have let you keep tormenting yourself like that.”

A look of shame crossed her face.

“After everything Father did, we have to assume Kinvara is right about Daenerys,” he added.

“If Kinvara is right about her, she might also be right about something else,” she said darkly.

_Lion blood, dog blood, dragon blood…_

“Let’s just try not to think about it much, shall we?”

…

He had thought the bathhouse would be empty, or at least he had hoped that it would be, but there was a young, slender woman with indigo eyes, and silky, smooth, silver hair that reached to her hips. She wasn’t having a bath, though. She was just waiting. For _him_. She was dressed in crimson, like the other priestesses, but this one had a tattoo on her cheek. A single tear beneath the right eye, meaning she wasn’t a priestess.

She crossed to Aegon, and began undressing him. “So, it’s time, then?” she asked seductively. “To reveal the dragon?”

“Did Kinvara send you?” he asked, remembering to drop the Dornish accent. Rhaenys was right, if they were going to do this, they couldn’t let Daenerys know about Dorne’s part in this game. Thankfully, Oberyn had taught them the other accents spoken in Westeros.

“Did you not like me?”

“No,” he gasped when she grabbed his manhood. “It’s not that. I just…”

“You just what?” she laughed. “Don’t be shy. I’m grateful to the High Priestess for choosing me for you.”

_She chose you because you look like Daenerys._ He had never seen Daenerys, of course, but this was what she was supposed to look like, more or less. He would have dismissed the whore, but the throbbing pain between his legs made it impossible. Sometimes he wished he was a eunuch, that would make things much easier.

They were both naked now, and the whore led him into a tub filled with hot water. She carefully placed herself on Aegon, and began to move her hips. Aegon didn’t need to guide her; she seemed to know exactly what he needed. His chest tightened.Her big, firm, round teats were bouncing with every move. Aegon cupped those beautiful teats and massaged them tenderly. She kept riding him like this, until he found his release. Then, he let her rinse his hair and scrub his skin as she liked, while he was still thinking about the play he had forced himself to watch a few hours ago.

When he returned to his chambers, he saw the silver prince in the looking glass for the first time in his life. He truly looked like the man he had seen in the flames now, no wonder Oberyn hadn’t wanted to take any risks by not dying his hair when he was a babe.

“Brother, may I come in?” Rhaenys’ voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She, too, had dropped the Dornish accent now.

“Yes.”

The resemblance must have stunned her as well, for she stood frozen in the doorway for several long minutes, not knowing what to say. To her, this had to be like seeing Rhaegar again after nearly two decades. Aegon hugged her, wondering if he could truly help her find some peace in this world.

“Rhaenys,” he whispered, gently stroking her black, glossy curls. The name their father had given her felt strange on his lips, but in a good way.

“It’s really happening, then. We’re Targaryens once again.”

“We are.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to return to Dorne to discuss this with Oberyn and Doran first?”

“Of course I want to speak with them first. But there’s no time. We have to find Daenerys at once.”

“We must write to Oberyn, then,” she said warily. “What are we going to tell him?”

“The truth. He will understand.”


	9. The Third Spice War

There was a joke Oberyn would never grow tired of telling Rhaenys. _“The Rhoynar are still fighting the dragonlords of Valyria within you,”_ he said. _“Mayhaps this is the Third Spice War. Only, this time the Rhoynar are winning.”_

 _He was wrong_ , Rhaenys thought, bashing her opponent with a shield. Here she was, preparing to be a Targaryen again. This was a horrible mistake. If she had her way, she would take her brother, return home, and find a way to put Aegon on the Iron Throne before Daenerys Stormborn came to Westeros. But her brother was also her king, and he had made his decision. The Valyrians had won once again.

Aegon had gone to find a ship to Slaver’s Bay today, and Rhaenys had decided to spend the day training with the Fiery Hand in the courtyard. Swinging a sword would always help her feel better.

The Fiery Hand were good, she had realized. Apparently the red priests and priestesses took the matter of safety very seriously. They were no match for Oberyn, of course, but Rhaenys was still enjoying the best challenge she could find in this city.

Until Kinvara decided to interrupt.

“Lady Kinvara,” she greeted the High Priestess curtly.

Kinvara looked at the man Rhaenys had been sparring with. He respectfully bowed to the High Priestess and left without a word.

“Princess. Is your brother back yet?”

“No.”

She looked at the sword in her hand. “You truly have a gift, don’t you?”

“A gift? Such skills are not _given_ , Lady Kinvara. They are _earned_.”

“But you’ve been born with something within you. Something that allows you to move so fast, something that makes you slit a man’s throat without hesitation, something that keeps you going even in the direst of circumstances… These things cannot be earned, Princess. You either have them, or you don’t.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Have you ever considered that the Lord might have given these gifts to you for a reason?”

“Ah, of course… Everything has to be your Lord’s will,” she sneered.

“Everything is the Lord’s will. Why do you think you won your namesake’s sword in that tournament?”

Did she know about Dragonspawn? She had brought it—and the dragon hide armor, too—with her, but they had been hidden in her sack all this time. They were too conspicuous to be openly put to use just yet. Rhaenys still didn’t trust this woman, but the doubt had been consuming her since she took possession of that sword, and especially since Kinvara told her that she was going to kill a Targaryen.

“You told me something when we first met. That I will have lion blood, dog blood, dragon blood. What does that mean?”

“I think the meaning is quite obvious.”

“I will kill a Lannister, a Clegane, and a Targaryen…”

“Only one of each, so choose carefully, Princess.”

She didn’t care. Killing one Lannister, any Lannister would be enough for her. She would prefer Tywin, of course, but any of those golden-haired shits would do. Mayhaps Myrcella, for causing her so much trouble… Oberyn could have the rest, as he wanted them more badly anyway. But the Mountain… While Oberyn thought he was just a mindless dog following the orders, Rhaenys believed executing orders mattered more than giving them. Every night, before she fell asleep, she pictured herself killing Ser Gregor Clegane. Sometimes she shoved a sword up in his ass, sometimes she gouged his eyes out, and sometimes, she sliced him limb by limb. But every time, he knew why this was happening to him, that this was his punishment for what he had done to Princess Elia Nymeros Martell. Even killing all the Lannisters by herself wouldn’t give her the same joy she would get from killing the Mountain alone. But what if the pleasure of killing a Lannister and the Mountain came at the cost of Aegon’s life? It was just a stupid prophecy, of course, but still…

“Why don’t you tell me who exactly I’m supposed to kill?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Even I don’t know whose blood you’re destined to have.”

“I’m not my brother, or Rhaegar. I won’t shape my life according to visions and prophecies,” she said stubbornly.

“I don’t ask you to shape your life according to anything, Rhaenys. But I’d like to see that sword myself very much,” Kinvara asked, with almost a childish enthusiasm.

They went to Rhaenys’ rooms. She took out Dragonspawn and the dragon hide armor from her sack. “Aegon thinks these are… somehow connected. But you probably know that already.”

Kinvara examined the armor first. It had been made of the silvery scales of Meraxes, Queen Rhaenys’ dragon. The armorer had done a good job at readjusting it, considering the fact that he had never worked with dragon hide before. He had even been able to paint it copper-brown as Rhaenys had asked, for it would look less fancy that way. It was as light as any leather armor, but Rhaenys didn’t think it would be easily pierced. Mayhaps Valyrian steel could put a hole in it, but she didn’t want to ruin the armor just to test the theory.

Kinvara then took the sword. “Do you think this is the Lightbringer?”

“My brother saw it ablaze in a dream. He said I was the one wielding it.”

“If you are the one to make the sacrifice… It’s a great honor.”

“I’ll never make the sacrifice,” she said firmly.

“But you have to, or the Great Other will triumph!”

“I don’t care. I’m not going to kill Aegon.”

“No,” she shook her head frantically. “Prince Aegon must’ve made a mistake, then.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “The Lightbringer… Does it have to be a sword?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if fire is the key to destroy the Night King, now there’s a much more effective weapon out there.”

“Dragons, you mean? Do you think a dragon could be the Lightbringer?”

“Look, I don’t know much about prophecies or enchanted swords. When it comes to magic, I trust my brother’s judgment. But you said Daenerys had sacrificed three people for her dragons. That sounds like the same ritual to forge the Lightbringer.”

“That’s an interesting way of thinking… But I doubt it.”

Rhaenys took the sword back from Kinvara, and ran her fingers on the sharp, shiny blade.

“The prophecy… It’s originally written in High Valyrian…”

“It is.”

“I didn’t have time to read _The Prince That Was Promised_. Which word does the prophecy use to describe fire? Because there’s a special word in Valyrian for dragon fire, right? _Dracarys_.”

But before Kinvara could open her mouth to answer, the sword in Rhaenys’ hands started to glow red. She quickly tossed it on the floor, before the blade burst into flames.

“Sheath it!” Kinvara said.

“Are you insane?” Rhaenys cried. The flames had started melting the stone floor. She wondered what kind of fire would melt stone like candle wax.

“Only you can put it out.” The High Priestess handed her the dragon hide gauntlets. “These should protect your hands.”

Reluctantly, Rhaenys put on the gauntlets and went to pick up the sword. Just like Kinvara had said, Meraxes’ hide protected her from the flames that were emitting from Dragonspawn’s glowing blade, and when she sheathed it, the spreading fire was magically extinguished.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” Rhaenys yelled.

As unnaturally solemn as usual, Kinvara narrowed her eyes. “This is impossible. The sacrifice hasn’t been made yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t told you everything. I thought there was still time, but this…”

“Speak, or I swear I’ll burn this temple to the ground!”

“This is the magic of Old Valyria, Rhaenys. To forge a Lightbringer, first you need a Valyrian steel sword. Then you cast the spell, you speak the ancient words. And finally, comes the sacrifice.”

“ _A_ Lightbringer? So, there’s more than one?”

“There can be.”

“So, that explains why the Ullers made a dragon hide armor… But what were they doing with a Lightbringer?” she asked, taking the gauntlets out.

“It doesn’t matter. The Lightbringer is yours. It obeys you.” She began to whisper a prayer in High Valyrian.

“How? I haven’t made the sacrifice, Aegon is alive.” Suddenly, she felt a strange relief. “Someone else must have made the sacrifice.”

“You don’t understand, do you? A Lightbringer dies with its hero. When Azor Ahai is reborn, the Lightbringer must also be reforged. The sword only answers to the one who made the sacrifice.”

“I told you, I haven’t sacrificed anybody!” she insisted.

“Not yet,” the High Priestess said darkly.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever wondered how your brother can see the future?”

“Some Targaryens are born with that gift.”

“Yes, but seers don’t see something that has not happened yet. No one can do that. They only see what time doesn’t let others see. What will happen, has already happened.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Time is an illusion, Princess. The sword obeys you because it can see through that illusion. This is the only explanation I can think of.”

“Wait… You mean, I will kill my brother when the time comes?”

“Yes.”

No. That was too much. “I refuse to believe that.”

“You can’t change your destiny, Rhaenys.”

“I can, and I will!”

She wanted to take a deep breath to calm herself down, but she couldn’t. It was as if a pair of invisible hands were squeezing her throat. The more she struggled, the more she panicked.

She looked at her hands. _“You will kill your brother with these hands,”_ the Voice reminded her. Mayhaps for the first time, the Voice was right.

“I need to get rid of them,” she agreed, and began to run. She wasn’t sure where she was going. But she knew Kinvara would stop her if she realized what Rhaenys was planning to do.

She wasn’t sure what happened next. All she remembered was, Aegon had found her, dragged her to the guest chambers, and forced her to drink the milk of the poppy.

Aegon was staring at her warily when she woke up.

“Kill me,” she pleaded. “Kinvara said—“

“I know. She told me everything. I’m not going to kill you, sister.”

“What if I kill you?”

“I’m sure you’ll have a good reason.”

“Doesn’t it bother you at all?” she asked in disbelief.

“The only thing that bothers me is the fact that you’ve tried to harm yourself today,” he said harshly. “What were you going to do, anyway?”

“I was going to cut off my hands,” she confessed.

“And how was I supposed to live with the fact that my sister crippled herself because she thought she was destined to kill me? I don’t understand how someone can be so selfless, and yet so selfish at the same time.”

She didn’t reply.

“I’m going to ask this only once, Rhaenys,” he went on. “Do you want to return home?”

“No,” she lied. _He has enough burden on his shoulders._

“You will never stop lying, will you?” he asked with a desperate, angry chuckle. “Well, then… At least promise me that you won’t ever attempt to harm yourself again. Promise me now, on our mother’s bones.”

“I promise, on our mother’s bones.”

 _I am losing him_ , she realized. He had never scolded her like this before. But he was right. He couldn’t worry about his mad sister while ruling the Seven Kingdoms. _He is becoming a king, and I am losing him for good._

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, this time more softly.

“How?”

“Like you can barely recognize me. I’m still your little brother. I’ll always be your little brother.”

She looked at him. _Stars don’t fall for ordinary men._ He was the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, and one day, everyone would worship him like they worshiped Rhaegar. And she would still be his favorite person. There would be no she-wolf this time to take that privilege from her. “Yes,” she whispered. “You’re my little miracle.”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you like that. I know you have no control over these dark moods. I love you, Rhaenys, but sometimes you scare me.”

“I won’t harm myself, again, I swear. I’ll find another way to change the future. I’ll… I’ll leave the armor and the sword to Kinvara. She can find herself another hero.”

“I don’t think that will be enough to help you find peace, sister.”

“What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to give House Targaryen one last chance. A real chance. I know what the Mad King did to you, but he’s gone now. Even if he found a way to come back to life, I swear I’d kill him myself for what he did to you and Mother. You don’t have to be the Mad King’s granddaughter. You don’t even have to be Rhaegar’s daughter if you don’t want to be. Just be my sister, and I won’t let anyone question your worth as a Targaryen.”

It wasn’t easy for her to admit that she was still terrified of the Mad King, even after all these years. Not the Mad King himself, but what he stood for. The doubt, the guilt, the accusations. When she closed her eyes, she could still see his face, twisted with fury, after he had found out that she had named her kitten after the greatest Targaryen dragon in history.  _“How dare you?”_ he had bellowed. “ _When dragons return, do you think you will be given one? Listen to me well, girl, dragons eat filthy Dornish whelps like you. Ask your whore mother if you don’t believe me. And now that your treacherous father is dead, who is going to protect you, hmm?”_

Over time, that ugly, twisted face had become one and the same with the dragon skulls in the Mad King's throne room, and his angry voice, a dragon's roar... The dragon skulls that had once fascinated her were now her worst nightmare. But it was his last question that had truly broken her. She didn’t have an answer back then. She did now. _My brother._

“What?” Aegon chuckled when he saw the vague smile playing about her lips.

“I was right about you,” she replied. “You’re the only dragon I need.”

“Right, but I won’t be the only one you have.”

 _“He can’t protect you from Daenerys’ dragons,”_ the Voice sniggered cruelly. _“Dragons, Rhaenys… Aerys was right, they are going to eat you alive.”_


	10. A Raven From the Wall

Doran sighed heavily as he put the royal invitation on the table. Then he turned his gaze back to the children playing in the gardens. Oberyn read the same words mayhaps for the hundredth time:

_Your presence is formally requested for the Royal Wedding of King Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and the Protector of the Realm to Margaery Tyrell, daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell of High Garden._

Then he looked at the sigil above these words; the proud Lannister lion and the Baratheon stag. Anger filled his heart once again. He slammed his dagger into the wooden table, as if the table were Tywin Lannister himself.

Doran didn’t even flinch, though. “Temper is a dangerous thing to have in King’s Landing, Oberyn. I am not sending you there to start a war.”

“No, you are sending me to find out the truth we already know.”

“We do. The rest of the realm does not. Do you think his life means anything to Tywin? Unless we strip him of all he holds most dear before killing him, Elia will never get the justice she deserves.”

“His legacy,” Oberyn said darkly. “His precious Lannister legacy.”

“Sadly, Vorian’s actions have made it more difficult than it already was. Tywin will never trust us once he finds out our nephew is still alive.”

The letter they had received from Aegon had appalled them both. He had decided to reveal himself to the world, go to Daenerys, and ask her hand in marriage. He wasn’t asking for permission or approval, he was just letting them know so that they could be prepared.

Oberyn knew that they couldn’t control him forever. Not that they wished to. His nephew wasn’t going to be some pathetic puppet king. What bothered Oberyn wasn’t his actions. It was his motives. He was risking everything for a prophecy, just like his father had apparently done before him, or rather _because_ his father had done the same before him. He was preparing to fight the Night King, someone—if he had even existed in the first place—had been gone for thousands of years, while the Lannisters were much, much more real.

“Most of the court will be quite skeptical when they learn Rhaegar’s heirs are alive,” he said. “I am planning to be the most skeptical of them all.”

“The question is, will Tywin believe you?”

“He might, if he thinks if I am being too sentimental about these pretenders tainting my beloved sister’s memory.”

“You shouldn’t have sent them to Volantis alone,” Doran said. “The poor boy is too gullible when it comes to his father.”

“I thought Meria could speak some sense to him.”

“Meria?” he chuckled. “Sometimes I wonder if you are blind, brother… Still, I envy your relationship with the children. I have never allowed myself to be so close with my nieces and nephew. Not even with my own children…”

“Trystane is still young. And he adores you.”

“He is young. But I am too old to change.”

“Let me give you my secret, then. Be honest. It always works.”

“No, Oberyn. Honesty is not your secret. In fact, it is your only mistake as a father. When was the last time you and Meria talked about something other than revenge? Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene have grown to be as bloodthirsty as you are, and the younger ones worship them. I don’t want this for Trystane.”

“You can’t shelter him from the truth forever. One day he will find out what the Lannisters really are. It is best if he hears it from you first, before Vorian sends Myrcella to the silent sisters.”

“I will tell him when he is old enough.”

“Well, he is your son,” Oberyn gave in. “I can’t tell you how to raise him.”

Doran kept watching the children, and Oberyn started toying with his dagger. They didn’t speak again until the evening started to draw in.

“I should return to Sunspear,” Oberyn decided, rising from his seat, but he paused when he saw Maester Caleotte.

“Prince Doran, Prince Oberyn,” Caleotte bowed to them. He had a roll of parchment in his hand.

“Is that from Volantis?” Oberyn asked. Mayhaps Aegon had changed his mind.

“No, my prince. This is from the Wall.”

The two brothers swapped puzzled looks. Doran took the note and read it himself first before handing it to Oberyn. Whatever it was, he seemed quite disturbed, and Doran wasn’t someone who would be disturbed easily. “From Maester Aemon,” he explained.

“Maester Aemon?”

No one had heard from him in years. Even Robert Baratheon, who wanted to kill every Targaryen whether they were a threat or not, must have thought he was dead, as he had left the Night’s Watch be during his reign. Aegon always wished he could meet him. Even Rhaenys seemed to respect him, saying that he was probably the smartest Targaryen ever for having renounced the Targaryen name.

When Oberyn read the note, he understood why Doran was so disturbed. The White Walkers had been seen beyond the Wall. Mayhaps Aegon wasn’t as delusional as they had thought. No doubt the other great houses of Westeros had received the same report, but how many of them would believe it? They would think the Night’s Watch was just trying to get their attention for more men and supplies. If it weren’t for Aegon, Oberyn would think the same. But Aegon’s dreams, Kinvara’s invitation, the return of the dragons, and now, this report… It couldn’t be a coincidence. His time in the Citadel had taught him to doubt everything, but it had also taught him to keep an open mind.

“Do you think those things can get past the Wall?” Doran asked.

Oberyn shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Apparently, the Starks were right, after all. This time, winter is truly coming.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“I need time to think, Oberyn.”

He left Doran with his thoughts and returned to the Old Palace. Doran had said that he needed time to think, as he always did. Well, if there was anyone who could defeat the White Walkers with patience and thinking, it was Doran.

…

Soon, it was all set. Oberyn made a list of the nobles he wanted to accompany him to the royal wedding, and sent each of them a raven. Ellaria refused to leave him alone in a place where he would be surrounded by enemies, so they arranged a place to stay in Littlefinger’s brothel, to at least keep her entertained while Oberyn was busy dealing with the Lannisters.

He knew he was going to hate the capital. The streets that smelled of shit and piss; the Sept, where Elia had married that noble fool, Rhaegar, and where she was now buried; the Red Keep, whose stones were soaked into her blood… Aegon had once asked him what it was like to lose a sister. _“A part of you dies with her, and comes back as a ghost to haunt you for the rest of your life,”_ Oberyn had replied. After Elia’s death, in his desperation, Oberyn had written to Archmaester Marwyn, who had done a research on ghosts, to find a way to reach the dead. He had failed to reach his sister, of course, but now he wondered again, what if Marwyn was right, and ghosts were real? Could Elia’s be wandering around the Red Keep? The very idea was enough to drive him mad, it would be best if he didn’t sleep under the same roof with her murderers. There were no ghosts in brothels.

He chose to spend his last night in Dorne in the Water Gardens with his entire family. Doran, Ellaria, Obara, Nym, Tyene, Sarella, Elia, Obella, Dorea, Loreza, and Trystane supped together. Although they knew that Oberyn would be gone for a long time, they all seemed quite cheerful, save for Elia, who was sulking and playing with her food.

“What is wrong, Elia?” Oberyn asked.

“I don’t want you to go!”

“Elia, we have been invited to the royal wedding, and your uncle Doran isn’t strong enough to travel all the way to King’s Landing. I have to go.”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.” _Probably never._ Even if Aegon came to take the Iron Throne with his future queen, he probably would want Oberyn on his Small Council. He had once said he wanted Oberyn to be his Hand, which meant that Oberyn had to stay in King’s Landing, even after the Lannisters were gone. “But I will write to you every week, I promise.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy Elia. “You won’t be safe there.”

“Why wouldn’t he be safe?” Trystane chimed in.

Elia rolled her eyes at his naivety. This was exactly why Oberyn wanted his nephew to know about his aunt’s fate. They were family, yet there was already a distance between Trystane and the Sand Snakes. Not that they didn’t love their cousin, but because they weren’t allowed to speak freely around him. The nasty truth didn’t necessarily have to turn him into a vindictive man, it would only help him understand the world better, but Doran was determined to shelter his last living child from it.

Oberyn looked at his other daughters. He didn’t want any of them to worry about him while he was away. “Do your sisters share your concerns?”

“No, but I wish they did.”

“No, Elia. They shouldn’t, and neither should you.”

“Don’t be stupid, sister,” Obara scolded her. “He is a Prince of Dorne, not even Tywin would dare harm him.”

“And Aunt Elia was a Princess of Dorne! Tywin did dare harm her, did he not?”

The question hung in the air for a minute. It was Trystane who broke the dreadful silence. “Father? What happened to Aunt Elia?”

“Not now, son,” Doran whispered.

“I have lost my apatite,” Oberyn said dully, and rose from his chair. Mayhaps he had broken Elia’s heart, but he couldn’t tell her that he wasn’t the one who was in danger. Aegon and Rhaenys would come, and they needed someone to prepare King’s Landing for them. Someone who could fool Tywin, brew plots behind his back, and reveal the truth about Elia’s fate in the meantime, so that she could get the justice she deserved, and her son could gain more sympathy for his cause. The fifth Sand Snake wasn’t old enough to hear all these.

And of course, there was another threat now, an inhuman threat. He wished he could go to the Citadel again, and learn everything he could about the White Walkers. Well, he had to be somewhere else, but he and Doran had come up with a good idea…

“Sarella, will you come with me?”

Together, they went to Oberyn’s solar. Everything she needed to see had been prepared.

“Will you close the door, Sarella?”

Sarella did as she was told, then hopped onto Oberyn’s desk, taking a quick look at the rolls of parchments: Kinvara’s message, Aegon’s letter, and the report from the Wall. “What are these, Father?”

“Patience, my dear.”

With her dark brown skin, and short, curly hair, she looked very much like her mother. The captain of the _Feathered Kiss_ , and one of the most spirited women Oberyn had ever met. Sarella had surely inherited that spirit. And her father’s curiosity.

“You have always been a curious child, Sarella,” he started. “You have wanted to know everything there is to know, and it broke my heart to keep our family’s most important secret from you. But you see, I had to wait until you were old enough to understand how dangerous knowledge can be.”

Sarella didn’t seem to be upset about having been lied about something important. She had the peaceful, forgiving nature many of her sisters—or, most Dornishmen, as Doran would say—lacked. “What secret, Father?”

“The secret about Vorian and Meria.”

“They are not in Myr, are they?”

Obara, Nym, and Tyene knew the truth, but the rest of the Sand Snakes thought they were in Myr, to visit Meria’s mother. “They were invited to Volantis by the High Priestess of the Red Temple.” He handed her Kinvara’s letter.

Sarella read it quickly. “ _Prince Aegon_?” she gasped. “And if he is Aegon, then Meria is…”

“We have a rule. We never speak those names, not even when we are alone.”

“ _We_? Who else knows?”

“Well, your uncle Doran, of course. Ellaria. Obara, Nym, and Tyene. And the Daynes. They helped us shelter Elia’s children after the Sack. It wouldn’t have been possible without Lady Ashara.”

“What about Darkstar? Does he know as well?”

“I hate to admit it, but luckily Darkstar is loyal to Dorne in his own dark, twisted way. Meria was hidden at High Hermitage until Lord Varys convinced the Usurper that Rhaegar’s heirs were dead. It was Lord Varys who helped your aunt find a place to hide her children, although I am not sure why he did it.”

“Is this why Meria was so upset about Myrcella?”

He sighed. With her courage and swordsmanship, Rhaenys was a hero to all his daughters, and they all aspired to be like her one day. But Oberyn didn’t want them to hate an innocent girl just because Rhaenys did. They had to see the error in her ways, instead of following her blindly.

“There is something you need to understand about Meria. Your aunt died a horrible death, I won’t lie to you. When that happened, Meria was too young, and there were so many people to blame that Meria ended up hating everyone who was not of Dorne. She often forgets, Myrcella hadn’t even been born when the War of the Usurper was fought.”

“I see. What of this book Kinvara mentions in the letter, though? Did she send Vorian a book?”

“Now, about Kinvara… I don’t know how she found out about our secret, but she is a sorceress, powerful sorceress, so I guess the question is pointless. You know how the War of the Usurper started, you know how Prince Rhaegar left your aunt for Lyanna Stark… For some reason, Vorian thought there was more to this story, and he turned out to be right.”

This time, he gave her Aegon’s letter. It would answer all the questions Sarella had.

She paused after reading the first few lines, her eyes widened in awe. “Dragons? Meria and Vorian are going to ride dragons?”

“Let’s not get too hopeful about the dragon riding part. We don’t even know if these dragons will grow big enough to be mounted, or the Targaryen girl will let Meria and Vorian have them.”

“But she has to!” Sarella argued. “I have read all about it, no dragonlord can control more than one dragon. Even the first Aegon needed his sister-wives to ride the other two.”

“Keep reading, please.”

Sarella did.

“A prophecy?” she asked once she finished reading. “Prince Rhaegar started that war for a prophecy he had read in a book?”

“It sounds foolish, I know. Look, Rhaegar was arrogant to think that the fate of the realm hinged on his manhood, but he wasn’t entirely wrong about the threat either. This arrived a fortnight ago.”

Finally, he handed her Maester Aemon’s report.

Sarella gulped. “So, it is true, then…”

“I don’t know about the prophecy, but the White Walkers are apparently real. At least, we must assume they are. And Vorian has had several disturbing dreams about them.”

“Why are you telling me all these?”

“I don’t want to scare you, my dear. But you understand the power of knowledge better than any of your sisters. Therefore, you must be the one to go to the Citadel.”

Sarella flashed him the brightest smile he had ever seen in his life. “The Citadel? But how? Women are not allowed to study there.”

“Archmaester Marwyn and I are old friends. As long as everyone else thinks you are a boy, mayhaps he can make an exception for you.”

Oberyn looked at her. She had short hair, and a small chest. She could easily pass for a boy.

She put her arms around Oberyn’s neck. “Thank you, Father. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Do you understand why you can’t tell anyone about this? Not even to your sisters, or even to your mother?”

“Of course! No one can know we are supporting the Targaryens.”

“Not only that. We don’t want to spread panic.”

She nodded. Oberyn took out a new roll of parchment, dipped his quill in the ink bottle, and began writing a letter to explain the situation to his old friend. Marwyn had always been more open-minded than the rest of the Citadel, Oberyn prayed that he could do him this one more favor.

“Try to learn everything you can about this Night King and the army of the dead until you hear from me again,” he said as they waited for the ink to dry.

“I will do that, don’t worry.”

Oberyn then sealed the letter and handed it to Sarella. “Give this letter directly to the Archmaester Marwyn. Archmaester Marwyn, and no one else, do you understand?”

She flashed a brave smile at him. To her, this was just another exciting game, but Sarella might be their greatest weapon when the time came.


	11. To Serve with Pride

Ser Barristan Selmy was doing his usual rounds that morning when Queen Daenerys summoned him to her chambers. She wasn’t alone, though; Ser Jorah, Grey Worm, Daario Naharis, and Missandei were already there by the time Barristan joined them.

Grey Worm’s and Missandei’s faces were inscrutable as usual. Ser Jorah, on the other hand, was frowning, and for some reason, Daario seemed even more displeased. Barristan wondered what the Wise Masters wanted from Daenerys this time. Yunkai had surrendered a fortnight ago, but there were still so many terms to discuss, so many pleas to hear, and so many compromises to make that Daenerys wasn’t ready to leave the Yellow City just yet. Therefore, they had temporarily taken residence in the biggest pyramid of Yunkai until the Queen was convinced that the slaves she had freed would remain free. Barristan was doing his best to give his queen the wisest counsel, but he didn’t know these foreign lands as he knew Westeros. Not that he complained. Hers was a noble quest. Prince Rhaegar would be proud of his sister.

“Your Grace,” Barristan bowed. “I’m yours to command.”

“It appears we have the most unexpected guests today, ser.” When Daenerys spoke, he realized that she could barely contain her excitement. “There are two people waiting outside the pyramid as we speak. They claim to be my niece and nephew.”

“Prince Aegon and his sister?” he gasped. “Forgive me, my queen, but are you… certain?”

“I’ve met them,” Ser Jorah said. “The boy definitely looks like Rhaegar, but how can we be certain? They’ve come here alone, with nothing to prove their claim.”

Daenerys was more optimistic. “We were hoping that you could help us, Ser Barristan.”

“Well,” Ser Barristan started, trying to recall the day the poor children’s bodies had been found by the eunuch. “Varys presented King Robert with their corpses one year after the Sack, but there was nothing left to be recognized, save for the swaddling clothes and a bed gown. They might have survived. But they were too young when I last saw them, Your Grace. I don’t suppose I’d be able to recognize them after all these years.”

His newly found joy was suddenly gone. There was no way to know. There was no way to be sure.

But Daenerys was smiling. “Would they be able to recognize _you_ , though?”

He understood what she was trying to do. “The boy was only a babe, but the girl… Well, I think the princess would remember me.”

“Good. I have an idea.”

…

It was a clever idea, Barristan thought, really clever. Barristan was never very fond of such games; they were for weaklings, cowards, and backstabbers. Not for knights. But this time, he understood why it was necessary.

He was sitting on Queen Daenerys’ left—not _standing_ , like a member of the Queensguard should be—unarmed, and dressed like one of the Yunkish freedmen. He even had a wooden walking cane. If these children were Targaryen pretenders like the Queen feared, they would never be able to tell that this frail old man was Ser Barristan Selmy.

Daenerys was receiving the siblings in the audience chamber. When they entered, it was Missandei who introduced the Queen’s titles as usual. “You are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Queen of the Andals and the First Men, _Khaleesi_ of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.”

But Barristan wasn’t listening to her. He was looking at the siblings with a mixture of awe and gratitude. There was no need to play such tricks, this lad was certainly Prince Rhaegar’s son. They had the same tall and lean build, the same sleek, silver hair, the same proud stance. His eyes were a lighter shade of violet, though, like Daenerys’.  And the girl… She lacked her brother’s otherworldly beauty, but her resemblance to Princess Elia left no room for doubt. Both were wearing old, leather riding clothes and carrying longswords. But they seemed tired and in need of a bath. Barristan wondered how long they had been traveling to find Daenerys. Still, Daenerys’ orders were clear; Barristan was going to remain silent until he was told otherwise.

“Welcome to Yunkai,” Daenerys said coolly. She no longer sounded like an excited little girl, but a true queen.

Aegon didn’t bow to her, but he smiled. “Thank you for receiving us, Daenerys Stormborn. I’m glad we’ve finally met.”

“As am I.”

“I understand your confusion. And your doubts. My sister and I are ready to answer any questions you have.”

The two studied each other for what seemed like an eternity, then Daenerys decided to break the awkward silence. “How did you survive the Sack of King’s Landing?”

“There are secret chambers and passages in the Red Keep, and Lord Varys helped our mother explore them. We were hidden well during the Sack, and afterwards, we were spirited away to Essos immediately.”

“Lord Varys? I thought he served the Usurper?”

“I was only a babe back then, but my sister remembers more.”

“I don’t know what Varys was thinking, or what he wanted from us,” Rhaenys spoke for the first time. “He sent us to Volantis, and we’ve never heard from him again.”

“Volantis?”

“The Volantene nobility takes great pride in their Valyrian heritage. Some of them were eager to shelter us at first, but in the end, they must have decided that the risk was too great, so we found ourselves in the streets.”

“Have you ever tried to find me and my brother?”

Aegon shook his head. “We knew you’d fled Dragonstone, but asking around would be too dangerous. We weren’t even sure you were alive, until we heard about your wedding in Pentos. Unfortunately, we were in the Summer Isles when the word reached us. We’ve been trying to find you since then.”

“The Summer Isles? What were you doing on the Summer Isles?”

“We’d found work on a ship to the Summer Isles,” he explained. “We’ve been to many places, in fact.”

“Who are your advisors?” Rhaenys suddenly asked. Barristan’s heart jumped. Had she recognized him?

“Right,” Daenerys nodded. “This is Ser Jorah Mormont, my oldest friend, and most trusted General. Grey Worm, the Commander of the Unsullied. Daario Naharis, the Commander of the Second Sons.  Missandei, one of the brightest people I’ve ever known. She can speak nineteen languages. And my newest advisor, Srediq, a former slave whose wisdom the Wise Masters failed to appreciate. He doesn’t speak the common tongue very well, but—“

“I’m sure Ser Barristan Selmy speaks the common tongue perfectly well,” Rhaenys cut her off.

He and Daenerys exchanged looks.  Barristan didn’t think he had seen his queen so delighted before.  He knew that sometimes she blamed herself for Viserys’ death. She had even asked him that what she had done—or rather, what she had let her husband do—would be considered kinslaying in Westeros. He had assured her that it wouldn’t, but he had seen how difficult it was for her, to be the last Targaryen. _“Viserys always said the burden of the greatest dynasty this world had ever seen was on his shoulders,”_ she had said. _“Now it is on mine.”_   What a relief this must have been, to discover that she didn’t have to bear this burden alone anymore.

Ser Barristan rose to his feet, put the walking cane aside, and took his place beside the Queen.

“Forgive me,” Daenerys said. “But I had to be sure.”

“Of course, I understand… I’m honored to meet you, Ser Barristan.”

“The honor is mine, my prince.”

...

Once the siblings met the dragons, it became certain that they were Targaryens. While Drogon was mostly indifferent, Barristan had never seen Rhaegal and Viserion to show so much interest in anyone or anything—other than their mother, of course—before. He thought Rhaegal would bond with Aegon, that would be the most fitting, but to Barristan’s surprise, the green dragon had chosen Rhaenys. But unlike her aunt, the princess apparently didn’t have what it took to become a dragon rider. Far from it, unfortunately… She looked like she was about to faint whenever the dragons were around. Every time Rhaegal approached her, she would scurry away to a place where the beast couldn’t find her. Barristan tried not to think much about how disappointed Prince Rhaegar would be if he saw his daughter now.

Prince Aegon, on the other hand, was going to be the Conqueror reborn, no doubt. Viserion had chosen him. The white dragon was the smallest of the three, but he had been growing fiercer since he had met Aegon. The prince would let him rest his head on his lap, gently brush his scales with his fingers, and even spoke to him in Valyrian, claiming that the beast understood every single word.

But Aegon hadn’t come all this way just to meet his aunt and her dragons, of course. He had come here as a suitor, and asked Daenerys’ hand in marriage. She had neither accepted, nor declined his proposal, though, saying that she was still mourning her first husband. Barristan had a feeling that this was a lie, because he had seen the way his queen looked at Daario Naharis. No grieving widow would look at a man like that. Daenerys was about to make a terrible mistake, and he had already tried to talk her out of it once, but she wouldn’t listen. Barristan couldn’t understand why. Daario Naharis was a handsome man, for sure, but so was Prince Aegon.  He would make any woman’s heart beat faster. He was also kind, brave, and intelligent, especially for someone who had grown up in exile, with no one to give him a proper education. Why did Daenerys not want him? Unfair they might be, the rules of succession were clear. Had Barristan known that Rhaegar’s son was alive, he would have sworn to serve him, not Daenerys. But he had already sworn an oath to Daenerys, and now he didn’t only see her as his queen, but also his daughter. She was his family, the only family an old knight like him could have.

Soon, the Wise Masters agreed to all Daenerys’ terms, and she was ready to leave for Meereen. Aegon believed it was a waste of time, that they should find more ships and more sellswords, then sail for Westeros, but Daenerys knew that after Astapor and Yunkai, the slaves in Meereen were waiting for her. She couldn’t fail them.

Not everything was going well, though. The dragons were growing fast, but they were also becoming harder to control. Drogon had snapped at Daenerys once. Rhaegal was still begging for Rhaenys’ attention, but she refused to give him any. Only Viserion seemed to be at peace, with his future rider Aegon.

And Daario was still openly courting Daenerys, although she now had a suitor. Not just any suitor, but Rhaegar’s son. But, only when they found a little girl nailed to a mile post on the road to Meereen, Barristan realized that Daario might not be the only reason why Daenerys hadn’t accepted her nephew’s proposal yet.

The army halted their march, and Daenerys, who had been talking to Daario again, came to see what was wrong.

“There’s one in every mile marker between here and Meereen,” Jorah, who had just spoken to the outriders, explained.

“How many miles are there between here and Meereen?”

“One hundred and sixty-three, Your Grace.”

“I’ll tell our men to ride ahead and bury them,” Ser Barristan said. “You don’t need to see this.”

“You will do no such thing,” she said firmly. “I will see each and every one of their faces. Remove her collar before you bury her.”

“You can look at their faces all you want, Daenerys, it won’t bring them back to life.” Aegon, still atop his horse, scorned.  Barristan had never seen him so angry before, but Daenerys didn’t seem surprised, as if they had had quarrels like this before.

“Are you blaming _me_ for this?”

“I’m just saying, those slaves in Meereen might be better off without us.”

“If I tuck my tail and turn back now, one hundred and sixty-three children will have died for nothing! There are still thousands of slaves to be saved.”

He looked at the dead girl. Two Unsullied were now removing her from the post. “Tell that to her,” Aegon muttered and spurred his horse.

Thankfully, this was the only unpleasant incident on their way to Meereen. They kept burying the children one by one, but Aegon never scorned her again. He even volunteered to fight for Daenerys against the champion of Meereen at the gates. So did Grey Worm, Ser Jorah, and Barristan himself, but she refused to gamble with their lives. She let Daario be her champion instead. That didn’t seem to bother Aegon. But later that day, he insisted leading the assault on the Great Pyramid.

“If there’s going to be a Targaryen banner on those walls tomorrow, a Targaryen must be fighting within them tonight,” he said.

Daenerys nodded. “Alright. The Unsullied will lead the slave revolt in the streets while the Second Sons take the Great Pyramid. The command is yours, Aegon.”

“I will not fail you,” he said.

“I’m going with him,” Rhaenys announced.

Aegon nodded, but Barristan thought this was a terrible idea. Like her brother, Rhaenys carried a sword, too, but Barristan had never seen her using it. And considering how scared she was around the dragons, how could Prince Aegon expect her to handle herself in a battle?

“I’ll go with the prince,” Daario said.

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asked. “You’ll be responsible for the safety of the only family I have. I’ll expect you to guard them with your life.”

“Then I’ll guard them with my life.”

“Very well. It’s settled, then.”

Daenerys returned to her tent, with Missandei and Barristan trailing behind her. She filled herself a cup of wine, and then collapsed in her chair.

“You seem troubled, Your Grace,” Barristan said.

“I am,” she admitted.

“Is this about Prince Aegon?”

“He has asked my hand in marriage, but I’m not sure if I should feel honored, or insulted.”

“He resembles his father in so many ways. Prince Rhaegar, too, was kind and chivalrous, but it wasn’t easy for him to give his heart to a woman either. And when he finally did…”

“It started a war,” Daenerys nodded. “Is it true that my father kept Elia and her children hostage in the Red Keep? And disinherited Aegon?”

Barristan was taken aback by the question. He had tried to tell her the truth about Aerys before, but she wouldn’t hear it. She still preferred to believe the stories about Aerys’ madness were the lies of her enemies. “Yes.”

“I think Aegon blames me for that.”

“But that’s nonsense! You weren’t even born when Queen Rhaella left King’s Landing.”

“He doesn’t seem to care. And it is not only that… He has clearly dabbled in sorcery, he despises the Dothraki, and I think he is in love with someone else.”

“Who?”

“Rhaenys, of course. Aegon denied it when I asked him, but… I don’t know. Don’t you think they’re too close to be just brother and sister?”

Barristan didn’t know what to say. True, they were close. Aegon had come here for Daenerys, yet he spent most of his time alone with Rhaenys. Young lads like him were often prey to lust, only a fool would deny it, but could a noble, proud prince like Aegon have dishonored his own sister? Barristan didn’t want to believe that.

For a moment, he was at a loss for words. Then, he asked, “Are you willing to fight your brother’s son over the Iron Throne, my queen?”

A mixture of fear and guilt crossed her face. “Not really… I don’t want to fight him, ser. He is my family. But I’ve earned the right to be the queen. _I_ gave my maidenhead to _Khal_ Drogo to help my brother. _I_ brought the dragons back. _I_ destroyed the House of the Undying, _I_ freed the Unsullied, _I_ conquered Qarth, Astapor, and Yunkai. Should I renounce my claim just because my brother’s son, a boy I barely know, has returned from the grave?”

“No, Your Grace,” Barristan replied half-heartedly, praying that Prince Rhaegar would forgive him.

…

Meereen had been taken. The Targaryen banner was waving proudly on the top of the Great Pyramid by the time the sun came up.

Daario came into her tent as the Queen was preparing to meet her new people. “Your Grace?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something I need to tell you. Something important.”

Daario looked at Ser Barristan, then Missandei, who was brushing Daenerys’ hair, but Daenerys didn’t dismiss either of them.  “You may speak now,” she urged Daario.

“Last night,” he began when he realized Missandei and Barristan were going to stay, “I followed your nephew and niece for a reason.”

“Well, I commanded you to protect them, didn’t I?”

“You did. But they didn’t seem to need my protection at all.”

“Why does this bother you?”

“I haven’t seen anyone fight like that in years, my queen.”

“Like what?”

“Like the Red Viper. One cannot learn to fight like that in the streets.”

Barristan frowned. What did Prince Oberyn have to do with this?

Daenerys rolled her eyes impatiently. “I’m getting tired of your games, Daario. Who is the Red Viper?”

“Prince Oberyn Martell,” Barristan answered the question.

“I met him while I was still a pit fighter in Meereen. He’d been exiled from Dorne, I don’t remember why, but he was my master’s guest for some time. He used to fight in the pits along with us. He favored the spear, but he was no less deadly with the sword. I would never forget the way he moved.”

“Elia Martell’s brother,” Daenerys remembered. “Are you saying that Aegon and Rhaenys know him?”

Daario nodded. “They don’t just know him, my queen. They’ve been raised by him.”

“But that’s impossible, they told me they were—“

“They lied. They don’t lie about who they are, but they lie about everything else. Do not underestimate them, Your Grace.  Especially the girl. Men who train pit fighters would pay a fortune for that one, and she’d be worth it.”

“There will be no fighting pits while I rule,” she muttered.

“As you wish. But like I said, be careful.”

“Or, mayhaps, you’re just jealous…”

“ _Jealous_? I know you’ll never be mine, Your Grace. Your father was a king. My mother was a whore. But I’m yours. Now and always. I would never be jealous of a boy who wouldn’t even bother to fight for your heart.”

No one spoke for a while, not until Daenerys asked in a distant voice, “Is that all, Daario Naharis?”

“Your Grace,” Daario nodded and left.

Daenerys turned to Barristan after Daario was gone. “Do you believe him?”

Barristan was now thinking of Lady Ashara. He was thinking of her beautiful, haunting, purple eyes, and the way she had looked at the young Ned Stark during the opening feast before the tournament at Harrenhal. She had danced with several men, but she hadn’t looked at any of them the way she looked at the Quiet Wolf. Later, they had said she had returned to Starfall and given birth to a boy, Prince Oberyn’s bastard son. Vorian Sand was his name. Barristan had never believed it was Prince Oberyn who had dishonored her at Harrenhal, although the prince was infamous for his carnality. Now it all made sense. The Red Viper of Dorne didn’t have a son. “Vorian Sand” was his nephew.

He had sworn to serve Queen Daenerys, which meant that he had to tell her the truth when he was asked his opinion.  He had sworn to serve her, not Prince Aegon… And he was a man of honor, not an oathbreaker. He would never betray the queen who had given him a chance to finally serve with pride, something, unfortunately, Prince Aegon would never be able to give him. How could Barristan serve a liar with pride?

“I do, Your Grace.”

Daenerys bowed her head, as if she was suffering a humiliating defeat. “Thank you for your honesty, ser.”


	12. Breaker of Chains

_“Mhysa! Mhysa! Mhysa!”_

Rhaenys gritted her teeth as she quietly trailed behind Daenerys. She and Aegon were the ones who had risked their lives and done the real fighting last night, yet people were cheering for the beautiful queen who had hidden in her tent until the battle was won. This had to be the best thing about being a great beauty: You didn’t have anything to prove to anyone as long as you were pretty to look at. People loved you unconditionally. Rhaenys had tried to tell her brother. This wasn’t their fight, he owed Daenerys nothing. But no, Aegon had decided to be a gallant fool, and Rhaenys had been forced to make sure he wouldn’t get himself killed while fighting for the people he didn’t give a shit about, and capturing a pyramid that wouldn’t bring him any closer to the Iron Throne.

Daenerys stopped once they reached the plaza, and looked at the masters who had gathered below, awaiting their punishment.

“Remind me, Ser Jorah, how many children did the Great Masters nail to the mile posts?”

“One hundred and sixty-three, _Khaleesi_.”

“Yes, that was it…” she said, then gave Grey Worm the order, and the Unsullied began nailing one hundred and sixty-three masters to the posts.

Ser Barristan seemed concerned, though. “Your Grace, may I have a word?”

Daenerys turned to him.

“The city is yours. All these people, they’re your subjects now. Sometimes it’s best to answer to injustice with mercy.”

“I’ll answer to injustice with justice.”

The screams and pleas of the masters were now echoing in the city.  _“Aerys would be so proud,”_ the Voice jeered.

“Do you think this is justice?” Aegon snapped at Daenerys.

_Seven hells, Aegon, please shut up…_

Daenerys shot him an angry, piercing glare. “Have you already forgotten what they did to those children?”

“We don’t know whose idea it was! Some of these men might be innocent. Have you questioned them all? Do you really want their blood on your hands?”

“And how am I supposed to find out whose idea it was?”

“Give them a trial.”

“A trial? They will all be blaming each other to avoid punishment. We won’t be able to find out the truth.”

Rhaenys put a hand on his back, and whispered, “Brother, please.”

Aegon relented for the time being, but Rhaenys knew that he wasn’t going to forget this anytime soon.

By the time they entered the pyramid, the servants had already started to prepare it for Daenerys. Aegon and Rhaenys had been given chambers on the top, not very far from the Queen’s private quarters. After she explored her own rooms to make sure she had everything she needed, she went to see Aegon’s. He was pacing up and down like a caged animal, still upset about the crucified masters. Rhaenys knew it wasn’t really about the masters, or even the one hundred and sixty-three children they had killed. They were just an excuse, something that gave him a reason to be angry. What really bothered him was Daario Naharis, who was openly wooing Daenerys, taunting Aegon and challenging him to fight for a woman he didn’t even care about. And Aegon had to keep enduring the humiliation because he believed the prophecy was more important than his pride.

“Oberyn was right about Meereen. It’s beautiful,” she said to cheer him up a bit. They were alone here, so they could speak freely about Oberyn. “Do you remember the stories he told us about this city? The fighting pits, the Great Pyramid, the friends he made…”

“She doesn’t care,” he shook his head angrily. “She might be punishing the wrong people, and she doesn’t care at all!”

“Just let it go, Aegon. Stop trying to be such a gallant fool. This is not your city. Those foreigners are not your people.”

“Do you think I want to be here?”

“Why did you volunteer to be Daenerys’ champion, then? Why did you want to capture the pyramid yourself?”

“What was I supposed to do? Hide like a coward while Daenerys’ lover fought for her? Give him another excuse to mock me?"

“Your pride will get us killed, brother. You don’t even want Daenerys.”

“I’m starting to think Kinvara has made a mistake,” he admitted. “Daenerys has the dragons, but she despises magic. I tried to tell her about the prophecy once. She scoffed at my face. I’ve offered her to train her in arms, but she won’t accept that either. She isn’t even planning to return to Westeros any time soon, but when she does, she hopes to bring the Dothraki with her. I’m not sure if I want to exchange the army of the dead with those savages. I don’t understand how she is the third head of the dragon.”

“Let us fight this war on our own, then, Aegon. Leave Daenerys with her slaves,” she begged.

“How? Isn’t it a bit too late for that?” he asked, but she could see that he was tempted.

“Not at all,” she said under her breath. If anyone heard about this… Both she and Aegon would be dead. But it had to be said. “Daenerys has given us the enemy we needed. Herself. She has become a threat to everyone who benefits from slavery.”

“What do you suggest?”

“If you promise the masters to get rid of Daenerys, they can give you the Iron Throne in return. Think about it, what’s eight thousand Unsullied and two thousand Second Sons, against the armies of all the slave masters in the world? Nym’s mother is a Volantene noblewoman, she can help us. Mayhaps even Lady Mellario… You can marry the daughter of a master to secure the alliance. I, too, can take a master’s son as husband if need be.”

 _Gerold won’t forgive me for this_ , she thought, and she wasn’t going to forgive herself for doing that to Gerold either, but what other choice did she have? If only both Viserys and Daenerys had perished in the Free Cities years ago, that would have made her life so much easier.

Aegon looked at her as if she was insane. “I’m the heir to a kingdom where slavery is forbidden! How can I ask for help from the slave masters?”

“As long as you don’t bring slavery to Westeros, who cares? If I knew the smallfolk wouldn’t rebel, I’d advise you to do that as well.”

“You can’t be serious…”

“I know you don’t like it, but this is how the world is, brother. Do you think Daenerys, or anyone, has the power to end slavery for good?"

“Leave me alone,” he said coldly. “Now!”

 _“He said he would defend you,”_ the Voice said. _“But he can’t even defend himself. He is pathetic, just like his father.”_

Rhaenys ignored it. Aegon needed her, now more than ever. She had to stay with him, she couldn’t succumb to madness, not while he was surrounded by so many enemies.

_“You can’t keep fighting me forever, Rhaenys.”_

The Voice was wrong. As long as she had something to fight for, she could keep fighting.

…

It didn’t get any better. Aegon had learned to keep his mouth shut, but his dislike for Daenerys was growing stronger. He began to eat and sleep less, but drink more. He sometimes returned to the pyramid past midnight, stinking of the cheap perfume of a whore.

“I won’t stand idly by while you’re wasting away, Aegon,” Rhaenys said one morning, as they broke their fast on the terrace. Well, only Rhaenys was actually breaking her fast, Aegon was playing with his food and sulking. “Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You had promised me, before we came here. Do you remember that promise?”

“You warned me,” he recalled. “You warned me, yet I didn’t listen. Now I’m acting like it was your fault all along. Forgive me, Rhaenys. You’re the only reason I haven’t lost my mind yet.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Aegon. You bear the burden of a king. But please try to remember that I’m not your enemy. I only want to help you.”

“I don’t understand,” he shook his head. “The prophecy, it had to be true… It shouldn’t have been like this. Daenerys should’ve been the third head of the dragon.”

“Let’s go home,” she suddenly suggested. “Just tell Daenerys that you haven’t come all this way to be the King of Meereen. Tell her that you’ll start your own rebellion in Westeros, and she’s welcome to join you whenever she wants. She has made too many enemies, Aegon. I don’t think she’ll ever be able to sail for Westeros after what happened here.”

“What about Viserion and Rhaegal?”

“Viserion will never truly be yours, brother. And I never wanted Rhaegal anyway.”

Their conversation was interrupted by no other than the two dragons themselves.  They began circling above the siblings. Rhaenys attempted to run inside, but Aegon gently grabbed her wrist.

“Stay,” he said softly. “Please, for me.”

“Aegon, I don’t—“

“You don’t have to do anything else. Just stay.”

Rhaenys sat down on a cushion, cross-legged, and closed her eyes. On their way to Yunkai, she had thought she was prepared, both for Daenerys and the dragons, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

The floor beneath her shook slightly when they perched. She heard wings being folded, followed by Aegon's footsteps and Viserion's humming. She didn't have to open her eyes to know that Aegon was petting him. They would go away soon. All she had to do was to remain still…

Rhaegal didn’t ignore her as she had hoped, though. She felt something warm and rough touching her bare shoulder, and shuddered. Rhaegal had done many things to get her attention, but he had never touched her before.

“Rhaegal is nudging you with his snout,” Aegon said, as if hearing that would make her feel any better. She was about to shit herself. “Just let him.”

With a sudden decision, she opened her eyes and sprang to her feet. If she let him do this now, he was going to ask for more later. “Shoo,” she hissed. “Go away!”

Rhaegal didn’t go away.

“I’ll never be your rider,” she said. “I don’t want you.”

For a second, she thought the green-and-bronze creature whimpered. _It’s just a figment of my imagination_ , she told herself. _Dragons can’t whimper. They are just beasts. Monsters._

“ARE YOU DEAF?” she yelled. She wasn’t sure if she was talking to the dragon, or his namesake, but at this point, she was beyond caring. “I DON’T WANT YOU! FUCK OFF!”

That must have been the last straw for Rhaegal. He opened his mouth. Rhaenys had never taken such a close look at his sharp, blood-stained teeth before. And she could swear she had seen a flicker of blue flame in his throat. Frozen in terror, she shut her eyes and waited to be burned alive. She only hoped that Aegon would be smart, and not intervene. _The Mad King was right, after all. Dragons do eat filthy Dornish whelps like me._ Rhaegal wasn’t big enough to swallow her whole yet, but he didn’t need to, when he had such sharp teeth.

A terrible roar pierced her ears, but all she felt was Rhaegal’s hot breath licking her face. The smell of blood and burnt flesh turned her stomach. She held her breath and tried to think of more pleasant things. The lemon and orange blossoms in the Water Gardens, the sea, even the smell of mud and dust at Sunspear was something she greatly missed these days…  By the time she opened her eyes, both dragons were gone.

“I can’t do this Aegon. It’s too much. You’ve seen what that creature is like.” Her knees were still shaking, but Aegon apparently saw what had just happened as progress.

“He was only disappointed, not angry.”

“They are just beasts, Aegon. They can’t be _disappointed_.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but then must have decided against it, for he stuffed a roll of bread in his mouth, and some olives before leaving the terrace in a hurry.

“Where are you going?” Rhaenys asked.

“To the barracks. Daenerys thinks everyone lives happily now that she’s the Queen, but some people in those barracks wish they could be sold back into slavery.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I can.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No need for that. Ser Barristan has already offered to come with me.”

“I’m still coming.” Aegon needed more than a legendary knight to protect his sanity.

…

Aegon turned out to be right about the barracks. Daenerys had provided the freedmen with more than enough food, yet she hadn’t thought of the possibility that some of the former slaves—especially the young and strong ones—could be crueler than the masters, given the chance. Aegon listened to the complaints of old men and women. They all talked about how the young preyed on the old and weak. The young men in question didn’t seem to be happy to see the Queen’s nephew here, but thankfully, they were behaving themselves while he was around.

She spotted a blue rose in the corner, trying to grow in the mud. She went to that corner, crouched down and plucked it, then crushed the petals in her fist, as if she was squeezing the life out of Lyanna Stark herself.

A shadow fell upon her. Ser Barristan.

“I didn’t know these grew here,” she said nonchalantly, tossing the blue petals away. Why had she just done something so stupid and meaningless?

“You remember that tourney at Harrenhal…”

“I remember the crown Rhaegar should’ve given to my mother.”

“He should have,” he agreed.

A cruel smirk played about her lips. “Well, at least the Starks got what they deserved. Were you there, Ser Barristan? When Eddard Stark’s head got chopped off? Did he cry for mercy?”

“Princess, may I speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“Lord Stark only wanted his sister to be safe. He didn’t wish you, or your mother any ill. In fact, he demanded justice for Princess Elia when he learned what had happened to her. He demanded Ser Gregor’s head.”

Her smirk faded away. Ser Barristan clearly had sympathy for Lord Stark, but he wouldn’t tell lies just to defend him. “Why? Why did he care? He barely knew my mother.”

“He didn’t have to know her. He was a man of honor, and defeding her was the right thing to do. There wasn’t much he could do, of course, while both Tywin and Robert protected the Mountain, but I thought you ought to know.”

“Thank you, ser,” she mumbled, scrambling to her feet.

Suddenly, she was restless with guilt. It was some comfort to know that there had been someone—other than the Dornishmen—in Westeros, someone who hadn’t seen Elia as the princess of the goat-fucking savages, a terrible mistake Aerys had made in his madness when it had come to choosing a bride for his son, an unworthy wife who had deserved to be cast aside for a younger, more beautiful Northern maiden. And Rhaenys had hated that man just because he was the brother of the Northern maiden in question. She had celebrated the news of his death.

She didn’t know how, but one day, she was going to find a way to repay her debt to Lord Stark.

Aegon gestured them to follow him, apparently he was done here for today.

“He has a noble heart,” Ser Barristan observed as they followed him back to the pyramid. “Like his father.”

“After all this time, you still admire Rhaegar,” she said darkly, making sure Aegon was still out of earshot. “Yet you chose to serve the man who killed him.”

Rhaenys respected Ser Barristan, but she couldn’t forgive him for swearing fealty to the Usurper either.

Barristan Selmy pursed his lips, and remained silent.

“Not only that,” she went on. “You’re now sworn to obey Rhaegar’s sister. Not his rightful heir. You know the laws of succession, ser. You know them better than I do.”

She could see that her words were taking their toll on him. “I didn’t know—“

“You do, now.”

“Princess, please don’t ask me to choose. I’ve sworn an oath.”

“What if the Queen became a danger to the rightful king? What would you do, then?”

“Queen Daenerys would never—“

“No, she wouldn’t. But she has so many admirers, and she keeps giving them hope. If one of them decides to do something stupid… You and I have both seen how Daario Naharis looks at my brother. Will you let a sellsword kill Prince Rhaegar’s only son?”

“If Daario Naharis committed such a treachery, the Queen would take his head.”

“Do you think Daario is stupid enough to leave proof behind?”

“What do you suggest?”

“Get rid of him, Ser Barristan. Before it’s too late. You don’t have to break your oaths to serve the rightful king. You know you’ll be doing the Queen herself a favor in the long run as well.”

Aegon had promised to defend her if she embraced the Targaryen name, but he couldn’t even defend himself against Daenerys. It was like as if they were back in the Red Keep. And this time, Dorne was too far away to save them. But Rhaenys wasn’t a helpless little girl either. She was never going to cower before a Targaryen again.

She would start by getting rid of Daario Naharis, but if she did this herself, that would only raise suspicion. It was best if she kept her hands clean for now. No one would question someone like Ser Barristan. Rhaenys knew she couldn’t force such an honorable man to break the oaths he had already taken, but there were other ways to make him useful. She had learned to poison people’s minds from Darkstar himself.

 _One mistake, Daario Naharis. Make one mistake, and Ser Barristan will come around._ Now she just had to force Daario to make a mistake, and make sure Ser Barristan caught him doing it…

…

“I think Ser Barristan will take care of Daario,” she told Aegon the next morning.

“How?” he asked, taken aback.

“It wasn’t that hard. He despises Daario already.”

“If you’re wrong…”

“Daario won’t stop until you’re out of his way, Aegon. I had to do something.”

Aegon sighed thoughtfully.

“Will you talk to Daenerys about the barracks?”

“I want to, but I don’t want to start another fight.”

“Good,” Rhaenys smiled. “You’re getting smarter.”

“I just want to be a worthy king.”

“Those people aren’t your problem.”

“One day, they might be. I want to be able to look at their faces if I become their king.”

Someone knocked on the door. “My prince?”

It was Ser Barristan. “Yes, Ser Barristan?”

He opened the door. “The Queen wishes to see you, my prince. And you, too, Princess. In the catacombs beneath the pyramid.”

Aegon frowned. “The catacombs?”

“Yes, Prince Aegon. It’s… quite an urgent matter, I’m afraid.”

“Let’s go,” Aegon said, and Rhaenys followed them in silence. Something terrible was about to happen, she could feel it in her bones.

When they went down to the catacombs, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Rhaegal and Viserion had been put in chains. They were screaming, flapping their huge wings, struggling to get free. Daenerys was standing at the top of the stone steps to the catacombs below, away from their reach.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Aegon asked, fuming.

“Rhaegal has killed a child today. You can’t control them anymore.”

“So, you’ve decided to chain up _our_ dragons without asking us?”

“ _Your_ dragons? Sometimes you forget that you’re not a king yet, Aegon. _You_ came to me, remember? You asked for my army, and my dragons like a beggar. That poor girl’s bones were thrown at my feet, not yours, because _I_ rule Meereen! I have to protect my people."

“I did what I had to do. I’m fighting enemies beyond your comprehension. As for the dragons, they should’ve never been yours. Not all of them, at least. No dragonlord has ever controlled more than one dragon at a time. Not even the dragonlords of Valyria. You should’ve thought of that before you hatched the eggs. If I hadn’t come to you, you’d come to me one day, begging me to help you tame them. So, Daenerys, tell me, who is the beggar now?”

“Have a care how you speak to your queen, boy!” Ser Jorah warned him. His hand was ready to draw his sword. Grey Worm, Daario, and Ser Barristan were ready to fight as well, but they remained silent.

In the meantime, Rhaegal and Viserion were shrieking even louder, now that Rhaenys and Aegon were here as well. Rhaenys could feel Rhaegal’s gaze on herself, pleading her to help him and his brother. Something inside her broke a little. Aegon was right, they weren’t monsters. They never had been. A monster would never cry like this. This was the cry of a little girl who would hide under her dead father’s bed and hug his pillow whenever she was scared. This was the cry of a child who had lost a parent not to death, but to betrayal.

To everyone’s surprise, Rhaenys was the first to draw her sword.

“Let them go,” she said, pressing the tip of the blade against the Queen’s neck.

She heard other swords being unsheathed, but her eyes remained fixated on Daenerys. It was too late, she couldn’t undo what she had done. Not that she wanted to. Years of anger and hatred, finally ready to be unleashed...

“That child would be alive if you weren’t such a coward… I thought seeing them here would please you,” Daenerys Stormborn said. “You hate the dragons.”

“I don’t hate the dragons, Daenerys. I hate _you_. I hate House Targaryen. I hate each and every one of you inbred freaks.”

“What about your brother?”

Rhaenys looked at Aegon. She hadn’t forgotten about him, of course, but for once in her life, she hadn’t cared. The fury was too overwhelming. She could almost feel its bitter taste in her mouth now.

“My brother didn’t grow up with your pathetic lies of _Fire and Blood_. He knows what House Targaryen really is. He will never be like you.”

She nodded in understanding, as if she had just discovered a great secret and everything now made sense. “Is this what your uncles have taught you in Dorne?”

Rhaenys fell silent. Daenerys knew… How? She tried to recall where she might have made a mistake, but she couldn’t. Aegon had been playing his part perfectly well. Rhaenys had barely opened her mouth unless she was spoken to.

“What else have they told you to do?” Daenerys went on. “To steal my dragons? Is that why you’re here?”

“Hatching the eggs alone doesn’t make them yours.”

“I am their mother!”

Rhaenys gave a hysterical laughter. “Only a Targaryen mother would chain up her children. Why am I not surprised? You Targaryens make terrible parents… or, grandparents. I wasn't able to stop the Mad King. I wasn't able to stop Rhaegar. But I can stop you now."

“You’re sick, Rhaenys. If you weren’t my blood, I would’ve taken your head for these words.”

“Touch my sister, and I’ll have yours,” Aegon snarled. He, too, had drawn his sword. But they both knew that they couldn’t fight their way out of this. Not after all those insults they had exchanged. Rhaenys’ black fury was now turning into regret. She had ruined everything for her brother.

“Your sister is a monster, Aegon. Don’t let her turn you into one as well.”

“She is the monster your father created.”

There was a grave silence. Everyone was waiting for the Queen to decide what to do with her treacherous niece and nephew.

Rhaenys expected the Voice to say something, but it remained silent.

“Chain these two up,” Daenerys finally said. “They will stay here with the dragons.”

 _“Drop the sword,”_ Grey Worm said in Valyrian. _“Or I will kill your brother.”_

At least they weren’t going to be executed immediately. Rhaenys dropped the sword. A guard searched her and Aegon, took the knives she had hidden under her tunic, and the dagger Aegon had in his right boot. Another guard brought the chains, and soon, they were standing in the dark—Daenerys hadn’t left a torch for them—their wrists shackled.

“Sister?” Aegon asked softly. To Rhaenys’ surprise, he didn’t sound angry at all.

“Aegon? I’m so sorry, I didn’t—“

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, and his hands found hers. “This was meant to happen, one way or the other. Come, follow my lead.”

The siblings guided each other, and they sat down on the ground, leaning against the wall. Although they couldn’t see anything, they could feel the dragons approaching them.

They heard the sound of heavy chains clanking, and soon Rhaenys felt the weight of Rhaegal’s head on her lap. This time, she didn’t freeze, or even shiver. Slowly, she put her hands on the top of his head, and felt his scales. Well, sooner or later, a dragon would always get what he wanted. Wasn’t that what some maesters said? Rhaegal had wanted Rhaenys’ affection, now he had it.

“I couldn’t have let them suffer the way I suffered. Leaving Rhaegal and Viserion here… It was no different from leaving your wife and children with a mad man and a Lannister.”

“I know. I’m proud of you, Rhaenys.”

“ _Proud_? I’ve ruined everything for you…”

“But you’ve found your courage. I bet Rhaegal is proud of you as well.”

“I threatened his mother…” She gulped. “I threatened the Mother of Dragons, to defend the dragons.”

“Sometimes children must be protected from their parents. You know that better than anyone else.”

“You’re right, I suppose,” she mumbled, still half-dazed, and put a kiss on the top of Rhaegal’s head, wondering if this was exactly what Rhaegal had tried to accomplish by burning that child.


	13. One Hundred and Sixty-Three Cuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might be very disturbing for some people. Before you read, please remember that I used the archive warnings for a reason.

The darkness was maddening. The uncertainty of the situation was worse.

No one had brought them food yet, in fact, no one had brought them anything. Not a torch for some light, not a bedroll to sleep on, not even a chamber pot. When they got thirsty, they had to crawl on all fours to find their way around in the dark, and lick the filthy, stinking water from the ground like animals.

At least Daenerys wasn’t starving the dragons. The servants regularly came down here to feed them, but they wouldn’t speak with the siblings. Much to Rhaenys’ astonishment, Rhaegal and Viserion were willing to share their food with them. After they roasted the raw meat, Viserion would rip off a large piece, and threw it at Aegon. Rhaegal would do the same for Rhaenys. Some parts of the meat would be charred, or too raw, but they didn’t complain.

Now their only hope was Oberyn. Gods, he would be furious when he heard what had happened here. Daenerys was under the impression that Dorne had sent Rhaenys and Aegon to steal her dragons. In truth, she had just lost her only possible ally in Westeros before she even set foot in Westeros. Still, it would take moons, mayhaps even more than a year, before Oberyn came for them.

But their punishment would end much sooner than they thought. One day, four guards came for the siblings and took them to the audience chamber, where Daenerys sat waiting on her throne. There was no trace of forgiveness, or remorse on her face. They hadn’t been brought here to be pardoned, that much was obvious. Still, she ordered her guards to unshackle the prisoners. Aegon was doing his best to look tall and proud, but that was impossible. His dirty hair was a mess. His lips were as dry as the Dornish sands. He was even paler than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Rhaenys had no doubt that she, too, looked equally miserable.

Ser Barristan, Missandei, Grey Worm, and Daario Naharis were there as well. Rhaenys wondered where Mormont had gone.

“You tried to turn me against Daario Naharis,” Ser Barristan, whose expression wasn’t much different from Daenerys’, said. “The Commander of the Second Sons!”

“I did what I had to do to protect my brother. And his dignity.”

He shook his head. “Prince Rhaegar would be ashamed of you.”

“Good,” she said coldly.

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Aegon was right; a part of her still yearned for Rhaegar’s love. But another part was hoping that he could see her, wherever he was now, see what he had done to her, what he had taken from her. She wanted his soul to be tormented with guilt and shame.

Barristan then looked at Aegon, and grimaced. “I know the poor Lady Ashara sacrificed her honor to save you. You’re not worthy of that sacrifice, Prince Aegon.”

Aegon remained stubbornly still. They weren’t going to admit that they had been raised in Dorne, even though Daenerys had already figured that out somehow.

 _Ser Barristan fancied Lady Ashara_ , Rhaenys suddenly realized. Well, who could blame him? It was hard to resist a Dayne’s charm… But it still didn’t explain what exactly had given Rhaenys and Aegon away.

“Have you brought us here to gloat, Daenerys?” Rhaenys scoffed, rubbing her sore wrists. “Are you too afraid to come down to the catacombs yourself?”

Daenerys ignored her; it was Aegon she addressed. “I want you to renounce your claim to the Iron Throne, Aegon. Bend the knee now, and I’ll let you join the Night’s Watch when I take back my father’s throne.”

“What about my sister?” he asked.

“I’ll give her a choice. She can either join the silent sisters in Westeros, or marry the leader of an ancient family here and help me keep a lasting peace.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I will execute you both for treason.”

“I don’t care what you do to me. But let Rhaenys go. She doesn’t give a shit about the Iron Throne. She is no threat to your claim.”

“Right, Rhaenys has made her intentions very clear. She is not a threat to my claim. She is a threat to my life.”

“Liar,” Aegon hissed, and for some reason, Rhaenys thought he looked more like a viper than a dragon. “You don’t want to punish her because she threatened you. You want to use her for your own gain. You once told me that you knew what it was like to be sold off like a broodmare. You said you wouldn’t want that for anyone. If you want to make an alliance with the masters, _you_ take a Meereenese consort and stay in Meereen! Keep me hostage if you wish, but let her go.”

“I’m not selling her off,” she said coldly. “She has a choice. A choice I was never given.”

 _Why not_ , she thought. Wasn’t her idea to marry a slave master to forge an alliance, and unite all the masters in the world against Daenerys in the first place? An alliance that would make her brother the most powerful king ever. In exchange, all she had to do was to occasionally fuck a man she didn’t love, and bear his children. It wasn’t such a bad deal. Most women had to spread their legs in exchange for much less.

“I’ll never—“ Aegon began, but Rhaenys wasn’t going to let him do another mistake.

“Do you have a suitor in mind?” she broke in.

Daenery raised her eyebrows suspiciously. “Is this really what you want, Rhaenys? Once you are promised to a Meereenese nobleman, there will be no turning back.”

“Well, at least it’s better than a lifetime of silence and chastity.”

“If you say so… You’ve heard her, Aegon. What do you say?”

Aegon’s purples eyes had been widened in disbelief. Rhaenys shot him a reassuring look. He would know what it meant. _I know what I am doing, brother. Just play along._

Slowly, Aegon approached the throne, and went to one knee before Daenerys. Rhaenys followed his example. As her brother renounced his claim, and pledged his loyalty to the Queen, Rhaenys cursed silently. But this was just a nightmare, she reminded herself. It wasn’t going to last forever.

Pleased, Daenerys nodded. “You may return to your chambers, but your doors will be guarded day and night from now on.”

…

Once Rhaenys was escorted back to her rooms, the servants drew her a bath. Everything was exactly as she had left, except for her blades. All her weapons had been taken, even the ones she had hidden well. Someone must have searched the place really carefully. After the bath, she was allowed to have supper with Aegon in his solar. He, too, had cleaned up, and looked much more respectable now, but she had never seen him so broken before. His pride, his courage, his confidence… It was all gone.

“What kind of game are you playing, Rhaenys?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Do you remember what I told you about uniting all the masters in the world against Daenerys?” she whispered into his ear. “This is how it starts.”

He frowned.

“Do you still have a problem with that?”

“No. Not anymore. You were right, sister. This is how the game of thrones is played. Everyone protects their own. The one who does it best wins. Still, you weren’t supposed to be paying for _my_ mistakes.”

“ _Your_ mistakes? I was the one who threatened to kill Daenerys, Aegon.”

“No, Rhaenys… Deep down, both Daenerys and I knew we couldn’t rule the Seven Kingdoms together. I told you, this was meant to happen, one way or the other. I should never have listened to Kinvara! I should have never read that fucking book!”

“You will have your throne, brother, I promise. Just wait until Oberyn finds out what happened here. And if Daenerys thinks this marriage is a good way to teach me a lesson, she is wrong. It is going to be the other way around, trust me.”

“I don’t think she wants to marry you off to teach you a lesson…”

“What do you mean?”

“She thinks… She thinks we’re _too_ close.”

“ _Too close_?” she spat. “How can she think I’m willing to make more mad Targaryens with my brother, after everything I’ve been through?”

“I tried to tell her, but I don’t know if she is convinced.”

She reached to hold his hand, but then changed her mind. _Too close._ Were they really too close? Yes, of course they were close, but no one had ever judged them for that in Dorne. Not even Gerold.

“No!” Aegon took her hands instead. “What we have… It is rare, mayhaps even unusual, but it is also equally precious. I won’t let anyone take that away from us. We don’t have anything to prove to anyone. Our love is pure, we know that. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Rhaenys forced herself to smile, and they finished their supper in silence. Then, a guard came to take Rhaenys back to her rooms.

…

Rhaenys was allowed to see her brother once a day, but Daenerys didn’t let the siblings visit Rhaegal and Viserion beneath the pyramid. She had never thought she could miss Rhaegal, but seeing him beg his “mother” for forgiveness had awakened something within her, and if Daenerys thought she could take that from her, she was wrong.

Soon, the Queen of Meereen found Rhaenys a suitor, as she had promised, and the wedding preparations began. He wasn’t very handsome, but he seemed decent enough. The wedding traditions of  Meereen were quite humiliating for the bride, though. The women in her future husband’s family wanted to take Rhaenys to the Temple of the Graces for a sacred ritual, in which her womanhood and womb would be inspected to see if she would be able to bear healthy children. She would also have to wash her future husband’s feet later, to show that she was going to be his handmaiden. Rhaenys didn’t care. She was willing to wash the feet of every men, women, and child in this city if that was what it took to protect Aegon. She just hoped that Gerold would never find out about these details.

To her surprise, Daenerys said she couldn’t let her niece to be insulted like that, but Rhaenys insisted that traditions were traditions, and no one should feel insulted. In the end, Daenerys relented. She had lied, of course, how could she not feel insulted? But she had to earn these people’s sympathy, and for that, she had to let them see that she wasn’t above their customs.

Aegon understood her true motives, but he wasn’t very happy about these rituals either.

“As if the thought of your wedding night wasn’t bad enough,” he sighed when she went to see him before leaving for the Temple of the Graces.

“It’s just a bunch of harmless women,” she smiled, stroking his hair. “No men will be allowed into the temple tonight.”

Aegon gave Rhaenys a hug. “You’re much braver than I can ever be, sister,” she said, and then stood there, with a helpless expression on his face, as two Unsullied led her away.

She was brought to the temple in a palanquin. The women remained true to their words; no men would be allowed into the Temple of the Graces during this sacred ritual, not even the Unsullied who had brought her, even though they were eunuchs. So, they waited outside, as her future mother and sisters by law ushered her inside the building.

They climbed up the stairs to the top of the temple, and when they opened a large, gilded door, Rhaenys gulped. There was a white, stone table in the center of the circular room. Suddenly, she was visited by a terrible sense of loneliness. She wished her mother were here. She didn’t want to be alone while another woman decided whether Rhaenys’ cunt was good enough for her precious son. What were they going to do once they realized that Rhaenys was not a maiden? She had always thought she could fool a husband on her wedding night—a midwife had told her that there were several ways for that—if she needed her maidenhead to help Aegon seal an alliance, but she had never thought of the possibility of such an examination.

And what if she wasn’t able to bear healthy children? She hadn’t inherited her mother’s delicate health, and she regularly had her moonblood. But back in Dorne, Obara, Nym, and Tyene always joked about how it was a miracle that she and Gerold didn’t have at least half a dozen bastards by now. Mayhaps she had drunk too much moon tea…

_Unbowed, unbent, unbroken... For my brother._

They poured her a cup of wine. “Drink this, my dear.”

It was a good thing that the ritual started with a cup of wine. Mayhaps this would help her feel better.

She sipped the wine obediently, then put the goblet aside, and let the women remove her clothes. All of a sudden, the room began spinning around her. She tried to ignore it at first; she must have drunk the wine too fast. But soon, she was no longer able to stand on her feet. The women didn’t even seem to care, though. They simply placed her on the marble table, and got rid of her smallclothes, as if there was nothing wrong with Rhaenys.

 _“Do you think it has worked?”_ one of the daughters asked in Valyrian.

 _“I think it has,”_ her sister replied. _“Mother, the guards want to have their way with her first.”_

The mother frowned, not in disapproval, but what looked like a mixture of impatience and frustration. She spread Rhaenys’ legs, and roughly inserted her fingers into her. Rhaenys would have cried out in pain if she could.

 _“No,”_ she decided after she pulled her fingers out. _“She is not a maiden. We do not have enough time to defile something that has already been defiled. If she survives, only then…”_

 _If I survive what, exactly?_ she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t open her mouth. She couldn’t even blink.

 _"Why would anyone want to fuck her, anyway?"_ one of the girls laughed, squeezing Rhaenys' small breasts to mock her. _"She looks like a boy!"_

 _"A cockless boy!"_   her sister giggled.

“Did you really think I would let you marry my son?” the mother asked Rhaenys. “After what Daenerys did to our people? One hundred and sixty-three crucified masters…”

 _No,_ she wanted to say. _You are making a terrible mistake._

“Foreign slut!” She slapped Rhaenys' face so hard that she broke her lip. Whatever they had given Rhaenys, it had paralyzed her, but not dulled her senses. On the contrary, it must have enhanced them.

“One hundred and sixty-three cuts, for the one hundred and sixty-three crucified masters,” one of the daughters explained with a wide, wicked grin. She was holding an ornate silver dagger in her hand.

“I will start with your face,” she then said, and opened a long, deep gash on her right cheek.

"Mother, can we cut off her nipples?"

 _At least they won’t be able to hear me scream_ , Rhaenys told herself.

One hundred and sixty-three cuts… No, she couldn’t survive that. She was going to bleed to death here. She was going to die tonight.

 _Aegon_. Despite the searing pain on her face, she felt a sudden relief, and even gratitude. Had she not agreed to the marriage, these women could have taken Aegon instead. _Better me than him._ _At least I deserve it._ As long as Aegon was safe in the Great Pyramid, Rhaenys could endure anything.

What was Aegon going to do when he found out, though? Rhaenys wished there was a way to reach him, to tell him not to do anything stupid. Oberyn, Gerold, the Sand Snakes… What were they going to do after her death? Doran would be smart and patient, no doubt, he always had. But would he be able to stop the others?

 _Don’t try to avenge me_ , she wanted to tell them. _I am not worth it. I am not my mother._

But even if they could hear her, would they listen?


	14. The Dragon Answers To No One

Aegon thought of Viserys as he poured himself another cup of wine. He had always frowned upon the Beggar King, for being so weak, so cruel, and pathetic. For selling his sister off to savages. He had thought they were nothing alike. And now… Now, he had fallen even lower than his disgraceful uncle. Here he was, cowering before a queen whose claim was weaker than his. His sister, who was supposed to become a legendary warrior one day, was being inspected for fertility like a prized horse.

Aegon had wanted to become his father’s son, and he finally had. He had ruined everything while trying to fulfill a stupid prophecy.

_I don’t want to be Rhaegar’s son anymore. I don’t want to be a dragon. I want to be a viper like Oberyn, the only father I have ever known._

He had learned to love his sister from Oberyn. And he had learned to put family above all from his sister.

Oberyn wouldn’t sit here and do nothing, while his beloved Elia’s body and pride were being violated in the name of “tradition.” No, he would find a way to get her out of here, at any cost…

Aegon had to do the same for Rhaenys.

He started by taking off his shirt and wrapping it around the wine bottle, so that it wouldn’t make any noise when he smashed it on the table. He picked up the longest and most sharp-looking of the broken glass pieces, and began banging on the door, trying to sound as convincing as possible. He knew there was an Unsullied waiting outside.

_“Something is wrong,”_ he shouted in Valyrian. _“I need your help!”_

As he expected, the guard unlocked the door. Aegon seized this opportunity to stab the Unsullied in the neck with the broken glass piece, through the gap between the helmet and cuirass. He then dragged him inside, stripped him of his armor, and hid the body under the bed.

Before disguising himself as an Unsullied, he remembered that he still had some black hair dye left. He quickly dyed his hair black to make their escape easier. He was doing a sloppy job, but there was no time to lose.

He was grateful for the mask that covered most of his face. No one asked him where he was headed, or why he was carrying a sack. He left the pyramid without running into any trouble, and began striding through the streets. He had never been to the Temple of the Graces before, but he knew where it was.

By the time he arrived, there was no one standing guard at the door, though. The Unsullied who had escorted Rhaenys were supposed to be here, the suitor’s family had assured him that no men would be allowed into the temple during the ritual, not even eunuchs. But the moment he opened the doors, he saw why there was no one waiting outside. All the guards who had come with Rhaenys had been slaughtered. Whoever had done this, they must have been in a hurry, because they hadn’t even bothered to hide the bodies.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

He was running around frantically, trying to find any sign that might help him understand what was happening.

What if he was too late? What if Rhaenys was dead?

If something happened to his sister, there was only one thing he could do. He would go to the catacombs right away, set Rhaegal and Viserion free, and tell them to burn this damnable city to the ground, with everyone in it. He didn’t care who was innocent and who was guilty. He would kill Daenerys himself, even if it was the last thing he did.

He searched the entire temple, until he came across four men waiting in front of a vast, gilded door.

One of them frowned in confusion. _“I thought we killed them all.”_

Aegon removed the mask and the helmet to let them see who he was.

_“This is the whore’s brother,”_ another one said.

The first one came running towards him. Aegon dropped the sack, raised the spear with both hands, and pierced the fool’s chest. He didn’t quite remember the rest; all he knew was that he had moved aside just in time so that the other two had stabbed each other in the eye while trying to kill him, and after finishing them off, he had slit the last one’s throat with a dagger.

He then proceeded to open the door, preparing for the worst.

Aegon had once asked Oberyn what it was like to lose a sister. _“A part of you dies with her, and comes back as a ghost to haunt you for the rest of your life,”_ he had answered.

Rhaenys wasn’t dead, but what he saw in that chamber was going to haunt Aegon for the rest of his life nevertheless.

His sister was lying on a table, naked and bleeding. She looked like she had been mauled by a wild animal.

There were three women standing around the table, one had a dagger in her hand.

“Don’t move!” she cried, pressing the blade against Rhaenys’ throat.

Aegon remained still. The woman stared at him, frustrated at first, then her eyes widened in horror. Blood was leaking out of her eyes, her ears, her nose, and her mouth. She dropped the dagger, and clutched at her throat with both hands, gasping for air. The same was happening to her daughters as well.

Tonight had unleashed something within him, something dark and ancient. He had been born with it, he knew; that was why a star had fallen for him the night he was conceived. For years, he had tried to keep this darkness at bay. Mayhaps that was why he had tried to be so righteous. But now, all his efforts were coming undone, and Aegon didn’t even care.

As the women died, he ran to Rhaenys. She was awake, but she wasn’t moving. They must have given her a potion that paralyzed the body.

“Sister?”

Their eyes met, but she still didn’t move, or speak.

“Stay with me, Rhaenys!”

He went to fetch the sack. He had brought two long, black cloaks to help them hide from the Unsullied and the Second Sons patrolling the city on their way to the docks. He carefully wrapped one around her, then he put on the other one himself, and donned the hood to hide his face.

They could make it to the docks. Once they did, he could use the last of Oberyn’s gold to buy them passage on a ship. He snatched two swords from the guards he had killed—one for himself, and Rhaenys was going to need the other once she regained her strength—and the ornate dagger from the dead woman’s hand; he might have to sell the latter, if they needed the coin. He shouldered the sack before scooping Rhaenys into his arms.

“We’re leaving, sister,” he told her, as he set off to the docks. “Just stay with me.”

She stirred feebly, and blinked, like a wounded little bird. “Aegon…”

“Stay with me,” he repeated, and felt her arms tighten around his neck.

…

The only ship he had been able to find that night was leaving for Volantis in the morning. The cabin was very small and filthy. Aegon had put his sister on a makeshift bed, gave her some milk of the poppy, and once she fell into a deep slumber, he burned away each cut to make sure it wouldn’t fester. Knowing Rhaenys, the ones on her face was going to be the worst. She had always thought she wasn’t beautiful enough, and now she had to live with a disfigured face. All because of him…

Someone was banging on the door. “Open the door, Prince Aegon!” Ser Barristan said. “You have nowhere to run.”

“Fuck!” Aegon cursed under his breath.

Somehow, Daenerys had found them. But they were going to leave Meereen today, no one would be able to stop them. Not even the Queen of Meereen herself.

He drew his new sword and unlocked the door. Daario Naharis, Ser Barristan, and finally, Daenerys herself, barged into the cabin. There were at least half a dozen more men waiting outside.

Daenerys shook her head. “You shouldn’t have tried to escape, Aegon. And all those people you killed… You have gone too far this time.”

“How did you find us?”

“I didn’t. One of Daario’s men had seen you heading to the docks.”

Aegon didn’t say anything. He simply moved aside and let Daenerys see what had happened to his sister. Most of her body had been hidden under the cloak, which was now soaked in blood anyway, but her face alone told Daenerys what she had happened to her in that temple.

Daenerys let out a gasp of horror. “W—Who did this to her?”

“The people you tried to make peace with,” he replied coldly.

“Aegon, I’m so sorry, I never—“

He raised a hand to silence her. “I don’t care what you think, Daenerys. We are leaving.”

“Whoever is behind this, I will find them, and I promise you, they will die screaming.”

“I never doubted your ability to make people die screaming.”

“I don’t want to be your enemy, Aegon. I just want to take what is mine.”

“No, you don’t, Daenerys!” Aegon finally snapped. Daario’s hand went to his arakh, but there was no need for that. Aegon knew he couldn’t kill her if he wanted to get out of Meereen alive. “You don’t want to take what is yours. You take what you want to take. _The dragon answers to no one._ ”

“We were once the greatest dynasty this world has ever seen, so yes, _the dragon answers to no one_.”

“But the dragon does answer, Daenerys. Your father answered for the people he burned alive. Mine answered for the woman he abducted. And we all answered with them.”

“I want my family back, too. Even if it was my own father who stole it from me.”

Daenerys’ regret seemed genuine, but Aegon couldn’t find any forgiveness in his heart for her, no matter how hard he looked.

“Prove it, then. Release Rhaegal and Viserion. Let us go in peace.”

“I will let you go, Aegon. But I can’t release the dragons. They are my children. The only children I will ever have.”

“You are barren…” Aegon realized.

“I am,” she admitted. “The witch who killed my husband and my unborn son did this to me. Do you see now why I will never trust a sorcerer? I can’t let you turn Rhaegal and Viserion against me with your magic.”

Aegon laughed at her ignorance. “Magic doesn’t work like that. I wish it did.”

“I don’t know how magic works, Aegon. And until I find out, I will protect my children from people like you.”

“And who is going to protect them from _you_?”

“I’m giving you a chance to leave with your sister. But this is my condition.”

Aegon didn’t believe her. “There is nothing you wouldn’t do for the Iron Throne, is there? Fine, you keep Rhaegal and Viserion! But if my sister gets hurt because of you again… Well, _the dragon answers to no one_ , right?”

“I wish you good fortune, Aegon. I hope one day you can forgive me.”

“Your Grace,” he said with a mock bow.

After they left, Aegon locked the door again and put the sword aside. His hands were still covered in blood. His sister’s blood. Disgusted with himself, he wiped them off on his blood-stained shirt. He sat down beside the makeshift bed, but looking at Rhaenys was too painful, so he closed his eyes and contemplated the mistakes had made.

Rhaenys had warned him. She had told him to stay away from the Mad King's daughter. No good would ever come from being a Targaryen. Aegon had been foolish to believe otherwise…

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes. Rhaenys was awake.

“Rhaenys! Are you in pain?” he asked, but immediately realized what a stupid question it was. Of course she was in pain.

“I am tired…”

“You’ve lost too much blood, sister. Here…” He reached for the waterskin, and helped her drink from it.

“Thanks.”

Aegon forced himself to look at her. It was too painful, but he deserved to suffer. When they returned home, he was going to ask Oberyn to punish him… No, Oberyn would show him too much mercy. He was going to ask Darkstar. He would give Aegon the punishment he deserved. Actually, he might not even have to ask.

“Stop blaming yourself, brother. You were just trying to be a good man. A good king.”

“I don’t care about that anymore.”

“What about the prophecy?”

“Fuck the prophecy!”

She blinked several times, as if she was struggling to believe him. “Aegon…”

“Yes?”

“What you did in that temple… Was it blood magic?”

Aegon gulped. He was hoping she wouldn’t remember _that_. “Did I frighten you?”

“Frighten me? You saved my life. But I thought you despised blood magic.”

“It wasn’t blood magic, Rhaenys. It was something even darker. I don’t know what it was. I don’t even know if I will be able to do something like that again. It just… happened.”

“I see.”

“Rhaenys… If I became someone dark, someone dangerous, would you still love me?”

“You are already dangerous, Aegon. I am surrounded by dangerous people. You, Oberyn, Gerold, the Sand Snakes, even Doran… And I love you all. But if this is about magic, no. You are a part of me, brother. Why would I fear a part of me? Now, come here.”

Slowly, Aegon curled up in the makeshift bed, careful not to hurt her. Rhaenys rested her head on his chest, as if she wanted to prove that she wasn’t scared of him. If Daenerys saw them, she would probably accuse them of being too close again, but Daenerys didn’t know anything about the bond between a brother and sister. None of the Targaryens did. They were either arrogant to fuck each other to keep their bloodline pure, or greedy to fight each other over a damnable chair. And then they would tell themselves that the dragons answered to no one…

“Will you sing me a song?”

“Of course,” said Aegon, but he didn’t really want to do it. Singing was something he did in order to be Rhaegar’s son, and that wasn’t him anymore. Still, he knew that his voice would comfort her, so he started humming a lullaby.


	15. The Viper's Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have received similar questions about Jon Snow and I want to say a few things about him. First of all, there is a reason he wasn’t listed in the characters section. I didn’t want anyone to start reading this story for him. People’s expections go crazy once Jon gets involved. While I was writing the first version of this story on FFnet, almost every other review was about Jon. Give him an ice dragon (because apparently even a regular dragon is not good enough for him), make Jon and Rhaenys fall in love (screw Rhaenys’ stance against incest, because half-siblings don’t count and Jon is hot AF), and goodness forbid if he is not a main character. I was very disheartened, because I had a carefully planned story that wasn't even romance or didn’t revolve around Jon, I had just said that he was going to make an appearance later in the story, but people got hyped up for no reason, and all they cared about was whether he was going to hook up with Rhaenys or not.
> 
> Anyway, I had to include Jon for the sake of continuity, so there are two chapters told from his POV, but I tried not to explore his inner thoughts much, and kept his role at minimum, because I knew someone would get offended for some reason, no matter how careful I was. I’m not comfortable about writing Jon anymore after receiving death threats for not turning him into some kind of dragon god emperor. I seriously don’t know how those who write fanfics that focus on Jon (or the same can be said for Dany as well) can handle the pressure. I won’t bother to explain why I actually like both Jon and Dany, because the last time I did that, I was accused of being a liar. I didn't have a problem with them until these people ruined the characters for me. Please don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to start a fight with Jon Snow fans, nor am I “punishing” them by excluding Jon from the story. I know not all his fans are crazy like that and I know your comments were meant well, but I thought you deserved to know why I don’t want to discuss Jon anymore.

_“Uncle Oberyn… No, please… Daemon, stop him… Do something...”_

Rhaenys woke up. Poor Aegon had been doing everything in his power to nurse her back to health, but, on the third day of their journey, she had started burning with fever. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since then. Day had become night, and night had become day, and she had lost the track of time. But now, she was at least sure it was past midnight, for Aegon was asleep on a bedroll next to Rhaenys’ makeshift bed.

His pale, sweaty face was gleaming in the moonlight that entered through the small window of the cabin, and he was shivering. Was he having one of his visions? Rhaenys realized she had never actually seen him having them before. She decided not to interrupt and waited.

It didn’t take long until he woke up on his own, clutching his chest and gasping for air. He didn’t realize Rhaenys had been watching him.

“Aegon?” she asked warily.

“Sister? A—are you awake?”

“I woke up when I heard your voice. You were talking in your sleep.”

“What was I saying?”

“Something about Oberyn. You were begging Daemon to stop him.”

Aegon sighed.

“You saw a vision, didn’t you?”

 “The most painful one I have ever seen.”

 _Oberyn._ She attempted to sit up, but Aegon gently forced her to lie back. “Is Oberyn in danger?”

“Rhaenys,” he started. “Normally, I wouldn’t tell you this before you regained your strength, but I know you won’t stop asking, so…” He took another deep breath.

“Tell me,” she insisted.

“The Mountain is going to kill him.”

For a second, she thought she was just having another stupid fever dream. “What? What in seven hells is Gregor Clegane doing in Dorne?”

“They weren’t in Dorne. I am not sure, but it looked like King’s Landing to me. Oberyn was fighting the Mountain, and all the golden-haired Lannisters were there, watching them. Daemon was squiring for Oberyn, and Ellaria… Poor Ellaria…”

It made even less sense now. “Why would Oberyn go to King’s Landing?”

“I don’t know, sister.”

“How much time do you think we have?”

“I don’t know that either.”

Suddenly, he slammed his fist against the wall behind her bed so hard that Rhaenys thought the thud would wake up everyone on the ship. “I am tired of being so powerless, Rhaenys! First you, now Oberyn… I can’t protect anyone.”

Rhaenys caressed his cheek to soothe him. “I told you, brother, what happened to me wasn’t your fault. Now I want you to think hard. Is there a way to send Oberyn a warning?”

Kinvara had said the future couldn’t be changed, but Rhaenys had done it before, by refusing to wield the Lightbringer. Now she was going to do it again.

“There might be. If I had a glass candle, I could try and send him a message.”

“What is a glass candle?”

“A magical object, made of dragonglass. The problem is, it is not something you can buy in a shop on the Long Bridge. And even if I found one, I don’t know if I could use it.”

“Well, you have to try. Do you think we can find it in Volantis?”

“Mayhaps Kinvara has one.”

Rhaenys grimaced.

“Or, the Volantene living within the Black Walls…”

“Nym’s mother… She can help us.”

Aegon nodded. “There is nothing else we can do until we reach Volantis.”

“We’ve changed the future before, Aegon. We can do it again. We have to.”

“I know.”

Still, she didn’t understand why Tywin would unleash his mad dog on Oberyn while his granddaughter was in Dorne. Besides, Oberyn knew how much Rhaenys wanted to kill Gregor Clegane herself, he wouldn’t take away her vengeance like that. And even if he confronted the Mountain, why would he lose? Rhaenys knew that he had fought bigger men and won.

…

By the time the captain told them that they would be in Volantis in the morning, Rhaenys’ full strength had returned. It was a terrible thing, knowing that Oberyn might be in danger, and not being able to do anything about it until they reached their destination. Tomorrow, it would finally end, though. They would go to Nymeria’s mother straight away, and ask her to find Aegon a glass candle. Oberyn might not be her lover anymore, but he was still the father of her daughter. She ought to help them.

She rolled in her bed for hours before she finally fell asleep, yet still woke up before first light. Aegon’s bedroll was empty as well. She got up and went to the upper deck, where Aegon was watching the horizon impatiently, waiting for Volantis to appear. Rhaenys joined him.

“Sister,” he greeted her.

“Have you seen anything in your dreams lately?”

“Only darkness and chains.”

She looked at his face, taken aback. She, too, had been dreaming of darkness and chains, but she was quite certain that she wasn’t a dreamer like her brother. She hadn’t inherited anything from her Targaryen ancestors, save for the madness. But the Voice had been gone since she had defended Rhaegal and Viserion. Mayhaps she wasn’t _that_ mad, after all.

“I’ve been dreaming of the same!”

But Aegon didn’t seem surprised at all. “Of course you have. If I am bonded with Viserion, you are bonded with Rhaegal.”

Rhaenys chuckled nervously. In the end, she had become the very thing she hated, just like Doran had warned her once.

“Is that what we are now? _Dragonlords_?”

“If Daenerys ever releases them…”

“Why didn’t you set them free before you left the pyramid?” she asked curiously. He couldn’t have forgotten about them on the night they fled Meereen.

“I had to choose, Rhaenys. And I chose you. I will _always_ choose you.”

“But choosing me over your _dragon_? I would do anything for you, Aegon, but unlike a dragon, I can’t make you a king, or a conqueror. I’m useless. I can’t even help you seal an alliance now. With this face, I’m nothing but an insulting match… Just like that Imp Tywin offered our mother once.”

“I will never let you sell yourself off again, do you hear me? And you won’t bear these scars for the rest of your life.”

“What? How?”

“Have you ever heard of Shiera Seastar?”

“The bastard daughter of Aegon the Unworthy,” she recalled. “What of her?”

“I once read that she bathed in the blood of maidens to retain her beauty. Perhaps I can do the same to heal your scars.”

She gaped at him. Did Aegon, her sweet little brother, really suggest bathing in the blood of maidens, just to heal her scars? He had asked her if she would be afraid of him if he practiced dark magic, and she had said she wouldn’t, but now she feared _for_ him.Could he have inherited the Targaryen madness as well? No, that was unthinkable. Aegon was nothing like those freaks, he was his mother’s son…

“No, brother, I don’t want you to heal these scars,” she said quickly, trying to come up with a good excuse to keep them at the same time. She didn’t know what was wrong with him these days, but the less dark magic he practiced, the better. “One day, Daenerys might return to Westeros. If people see what she did to your sister, they won’t blame you for fighting her. They won’t hate you for kinslaying.”

Kinslaying. If Aegon fought Daenerys for the Iron Throne and won, he would still be branded a kinslayer. She wasn’t sure if her scars would be enough to justify the crime. Still, at least he would be remembered as a hero avenging his sister, rather than another Targaryen king who thought his claim to the Iron Throne was stronger just because he had a cock.

Seemingly unconvinced, he narrowed his eyes. “So, you’re willing to let people take pity on you, to justify my cause?”

“I am.”

“Well, if this is what you want…”

“Aegon, I was never a beauty anyway.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Look!” Rhaenys said, showing him the dark outline of a city that was finally visible in the distance. They were going to feel much better once they warned Oberyn about Gregor Clegane.

…

The guards at the gates of the Black Wall didn’t let them in, no matter how much they insisted, saying they needed to be invited by the Old Blood dwelled within the walls. And since they couldn’t reveal their true identity to the guards—all the slave masters in the world hated the Targaryens now—that left the siblings with only one place to go: The Red Temple.

The Fiery Hand let them in without a word, just like they had last time, but it was a silver-haired temple prostitute, not a Fiery Hand, who greeted them inside this time. She kept smiling at Aegon as she took them to the High Priestess, but he hardly noticed her.

“Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys. Welcome back,” Kinvara greeted them with her usual solemn manner, in the same windowless room where she had answered their questions about Rhaegar.

“You lied to us,” Aegon snarled. “There is no way we can join forces with Daenerys after what she did. Not even against the Night King. There is no third head of the dragon. There is no prophecy.”

“Brother,” Rhaenys whispered. “Remember why we are here.”

“Mayhaps I was impatient,” Kinvara admitted. “Daenerys Stormborn wasn’t ready to embrace her destiny. Neither were you.”

“Impatient, you say? Look what happened to my sister just because you were _impatient_!”

“Why are you here, Prince Aegon?”

“I think you already know why.”

“You wish to speak with Prince Oberyn. I am afraid I cannot help you with that.”

“You have to!”

“No one can speak with the dead, Prince Aegon,” she said softly. “Not even through the glass candles.”

There was a long, dreadful silence.

Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell was dead. Rhaenys had thought losing him would be like sinking back into an old nightmare. She was wrong. It was like being slapped out of a pleasant, but stupid dream. While you had an uncle like Oberyn, it was easy to believe that vengeance would come without a cost.

“Why was my uncle in King’s Landing?” Aegon asked suspiciously.

“For the royal wedding.”

“I didn’t know duels were fought during a royal wedding.”

“Prince Oberyn died in a trial by combat. Joffrey Baratheon was poisoned at his own wedding, and his mother accused Tyrion Lannister of this murder.”

“Our uncle fought to defend the Imp?” Rhaenys asked with disgust.

“It was a good opportunity to force Ser Gregor to confess his crimes before the people of King’s Landing.”

Indeed it was. It wasn’t Tywin’s life they were after; they wanted to destroy his legacy. If the Mountain confessed that Tywin had ordered him to rape and torture Elia Martell, people would see how pathetic Tywin actually was, to punish a helpless woman for simply having done something his own daughter had failed to do: Marrying the crown prince.

“Aegon,” she said softly, rubbing his arm. “We’re done here, brother. Let’s go.”

She wasn’t going to weep for Oberyn in front of a stranger, even though keeping the tears at bay was getting more and more difficult by each passing second.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss,” Kinvara said, pulling two rolls of parchment. “This arrived shortly after you left for Yunkai.”

Aegon snatched it away from her hands. “Why didn’t you send it to us?”

“You had told me that you wouldn’t reveal where Dorne’s true loyalty lay. I thought you might not want to receive a letter from Dorne while you were around Daenerys Stormborn… You have been at sea for quite a long time, my prince. Please, get some rest, no one will disturb you while you mourn your uncle.”

With these words, she left. Two slaves led the siblings to the guest chambers, and as Kinvara had promised, gave them the privacy to mourn Oberyn.

One of the scrolls had Oberyn’s seal on it, the other had Doran’s. Aegon decided to open the former first.

_Dear Aegon,_

_When I first brought you to Sunspear, Doran looked at you and said, “This is our rightful king now.” And you have been our rightful king since then. We are all here to protect and serve you. I think seeking Daenerys at this point is a grave mistake. You probably already know that, but if you think a mistake needs to be done to protect your people, then go ahead and make it. However, as your uncle, and a faithful advisor, it is my duty to warn you: If a sacrifice is going to bring more harm than good, perhaps it is not a sacrifice at all._

_And my dear Rhaenys… I know this quest is even more difficult for you than it is for your brother. Your courage and loyalty never cease to impress us, so I must ask you to do one more thing for me: If you have a chance to become a dragon rider, please do not refuse it out of spite. The world is changing, and in this new world, perhaps us Dornishmen need a dragon of our own._

_This is true, especially after the disturbing reports we received from the Wall. Maester Aemon claims that the White Walkers have been seen beyond the Wall, and they are raising an army of dead men, so, perhaps your father wasn’t completely wrong to heed to a warning in an ancient book. I have sent Sarella to the Citadel, disguised as a novice, so that she can learn more about this threat while we deal with the enemies within the borders of the Seven Kingdoms. She now knows your secret. And Aegon, Doran believes you ought to know that you are not going to Daenerys as a beggar at all. You have your own army, you always have. After your mother’s death, Doran sent me to Essos to make a secret pact with the Golden Company. I am sending you the proof of that pact along with this letter, in case you might need it._

_Oberyn_

…

The slaves brought them food thrice a day, but other than that, no one indeed bothered them. Rhaenys and Aegon were trying to decide what to do now. Doran was preparing to wage war, no doubt, but he couldn’t do it on his own. He needed help. The Golden Company was said to be in Myr now. Aegon wasn’t sure if the pact they had made with Oberyn would be enough to convince them to break their current contract with Myr. _“Our word is good as gold,”_ they said. Rhaenys, on the other hand, was more hopeful. _“Beneath the gold, the bitter steel!”_ Their true desire wasn’t gold. They wanted a place they could call home. She believed that they would break any contract for someone who promised them lands and castles in Westeros. Aegon could do that.

Aegon wanted to leave the Red Temple as soon as possible. Kinvara didn’t try to force them to stay. On the contrary, she even insisted providing them horses and fine clothes so that they could impress the high officers of the Golden Company. Aegon was going to refuse, but they had no coin left, and the silver dagger he had taken from the torturers in Meereen wasn’t valuable enough to buy him everything he needed to look like a king.

“A beggar king indeed,” he sneered as Rhaenys brushed his long, silver hair. She had thought that would help him calm down a bit, but it hadn’t.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aegon. You are not a beggar king. It was Kinvara who had dragged us into this in the first place. And we are to leave in the morning anyway. We will probably never see a red priest or priestess ever again.”

They had started speaking in the Dornish accent again, and it was such a relief to both of them. They no longer had to pretend to be someone they weren’t. Aegon had to take the Iron Throne as a Targaryen, but their mother was a Martell, they had been sheltered and raised by the Martells, and they were proud of it.

“Hopefully…” he muttered.

Someone knocked on the door. “Prince Aegon?”

It was Kinvara. Rhaenys opened the door. “Yes?” she asked her coldly.

“I was hoping we could talk about the Lightbringer before you left.”

“I told you before, I don’t want it back.”

“Believe me, Princess, you do.”

“That’s enough!” Aegon snarled. “Sister, don’t listen to her.”

But Kinvara ignored him. “There is something you need to know about the Mountain.”

“He is probably dead by now,” Rhaenys said quickly. “I am quite certain that Uncle Oberyn coated his spear with some deadly poison before the duel.”

She nodded. “Manticore venom.”

“Good. There is no cure for that one.” Oberyn might have refused to teach her about poisons, but all the Sand Snakes knew that much. Once the manticore venom touched a man’s skin, there was no hope for him.

“There is one, actually… Necromancy.”

“Necromancy?”

“Cersei Lannister has a necromancer at her disposal. A former maester who lost his chain because of the sins he had committed. The one they call Ser Gregor Clegane is now darkness made flesh.”

“Why should we believe you?” Aegon asked.

“I can show you if you wish.”

“No…” Aegon started, but Rhaenys raised a hand to silence him.

“Yes. Yes, I wish to see it. Please, brother.”

So, once again, they gathered around a torch, and this time, the flames showed them a chainless maester, and the monstrosity of a man lying on his table. Rhaenys had no idea what he was doing to the Mountain, but whatever it was, Aegon seemed convinced that the chainless maester was a necromancer.

“Why did you tell us about this?” Rhaenys asked Kinvara after the vision disappeared.

“Because I thought you might want to take back the only weapon that can kill Ser Gregor. Only light can destroy darkness, Princess.”

Rhaenys opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. The Lightbringer… If Rhaenys wanted to avenge Oberyn, she had to take it back. She had to sacrifice her brother…

“Do it, sister!”

“A—are you sure?”

“The dragons could kill the Mountain, no doubt, but now they are lost to us for good. Dragonspawn is our only weapon against him.”

“I can’t sacrifice you, Aegon!”

“If I refused to avenge Uncle Oberyn, I wouldn’t deserve to live anyway. You know how much I loved him. Don’t do that to me, Rhaenys. I will never trust the Lord of Light, nor will I do his bidding again, but the magic that gives Dragonspawn its power is real. Necromancy is also real. We have to do something.”

“Why is this happening to us?”

“The Lord is punishing you for your arrogance,” Kinvara replied softly, but her calm, compassionate voice didn’t make the answer any less horrifying. “You thought you had the power to change the future, although I told you why that was impossible.”

“Your lord should have taken _my_ life, then, not Oberyn’s!”

“You are the Lord’s chosen, Rhaenys. He is not done with you yet.”

“Get out!” Aegon roared, and for a moment, Rhaenys thought he really was going to kill her. “It was Oberyn’s choice to fight the Mountain, your Lord has nothing to do with his death. Stop poisoning her with your lies!”

Kinvara looked at him with a sad smile, and then left.

When Rhaenys woke up the next morning, she saw that someone had brought Dragonspawn and the dragon hide armor to her bedchamber while she was asleep. The Lord of Light has already taken Oberyn from her, and Rhaenys didn't know who would be next if she disobeyed him again.


	16. The Golden Company

Aegon jerked the reins of his horse to a halt when he finally saw the solid gold banners of the Golden Company in the distance.

“What is it, brother?”

He gave a desperate shrug. “I am tired of begging, Rhaenys!”

“Aegon, we have talked about this. We need more than magic to defeat the Lannisters. Doran is probably preparing to declare war as we speak. He can’t do this alone. We need to bring him help. Hire the Golden Company, return to Dorne, raise your banners… This was the plan all along.”

“Viserys tried to hire them once. Daenerys told me all about it. They ate his food, listened to his pleas, and laughed at him.What if they do the same to me? I have already fallen even lower than Viserys.”

“Nonsense! We have a pact with the Golden Company. You are not going there to beg. You are going there to demand what is yours. If they refuse to serve you, it doesn’t make you a beggar. It makes them oathbreakers.”

“Right,” he forced himself to agree, and spurred his horse. “Let’s go.”

Yes, they had a pact. Still, most of these soldiers were descendants of the Blackfyre supporters, Aegon wasn’t sure if they were going to be happy to see two Targaryens now. But there were no Blackfyres to lead them home anymore. He and his sister were their only hope if it was still home they wanted. Otherwise, they had to keep fighting in the petty wars of the Free Cities forever. The thought gave him some confidence.

“You there!” someone shouted. “Stop!”

Two sentries had seen the siblings, now they were running towards them. Aegon pulled the reins of his horse again and dismounted. Rhaenys did the same.

“What are you doing here?” one of them asked. “You’ve been lurking around suspiciously close to our camp, so don’t tell me you’ve got lost.”

“We weren’t _lurking around_ , we were coming to you. I am Aegon Targaryen, the son of Princess Elia Martell and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. This is my sister, Rhaenys.”

The men pursed their lips, probably trying not to laugh.

“Look,” the other one said casually, “If this is true, you better have proof that you’re not some boywhore from Lys, otherwise Connington will put your head on a spike.”

“Aye,” the first one laughed. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

“Take me to Lord Connington. Tell him that I have proof.”

The sentries looked at each other. The first one shrugged, and his friend nodded. “Come with us,” he then told Aegon, and the four went to the gates of the camp. Today could be the most important day in Aegon’s life. Tomorrow, he was either going to be commanding his own army, or leave for Dorne, empty-handed and more pathetic than ever.

When the gates opened, the sentries told them to wait outside, and went to inform their captain-general. The guards on the watchtowers were now eyeing them as well, with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

“Look at this place, brother,” Rhaenys whispered in his ear. “Oberyn was right about them, discipline is like mother’s milk to these men.”

Indeed, the Golden Company was famous for their discipline, and their camp alone was enough to prove that claim. The tents, the latrines, the horses, the war elephants… Everything had been arranged carefully. A deep ditch with sharpened stakes inside protected camp from possible attacks.

Soon, one of the sentries returned. “Connington will see you. Be careful, though. He’s in no mood for japery today.”

He took them to the largest tent, the one made of cloth-of-gold, and surrounded by a ring of pikes topped with gilded skulls. _Not the skulls of their enemies_ , though, he reminded himself. They belonged to the previous captain-generals.

There was a broad, and unquestionably battle-hardened man, with fiery red hair and bright blue eyes waiting for them inside.

“Lord Connington,” he started.

“I’m not a lord, boy,” he muttered. “Just another exile. That’s what we are, a brotherhood of exiles. And here you are, claiming to be the son of the Last Dragon… Why should I believe you?”

“Because of this.” Aegon handed him the parchment containing the secret pact. Lord Connington examined the seal carefully before breaking it.

“Once we are in Dorne, Prince Doran can confirm our identities,” Aegon added.

“Forgive me, my prince,” Connington said hastily and bowed as he gave the scroll back. His blue eyes were now clouded with some sort of sorrow Aegon couldn’t understand. Was he sad because the siblings had lost their beloved uncle? Or was it something else? “I—I thought you were in Meereen with your aunt.”

“We were. I offered her a chance to rule the Seven Kingdoms together, as king and queen, but she refused. My sister suffered the consequences of her arrogance and recklessness”

Connington looked at Rhaenys, as if he were seeing her for the first time. “Poor girl,” he nodded. “What happened?”

Aegon found this quite rude, actually, but Rhaenys didn’t seem to mind. “I was lured into a trap by Daenerys’ enemies. They tortured me,” she said dryly.

“How many people know you’re here?” Connington suddenly asked Aegon.

“Only Kinvara, the High Priestess of the Red Temple in Volantis.”

Connington hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “Prince Aegon, forgive me if I’m being too bold, but if you’re planning to abandon the gods your ancestors—“

“I am not abandoning anything, my lord. Lady Kinvara offered us help because she thought we…” Aegon paused, trying to find a way to put this into words without sounding like a madman, “had a destiny to fulfill. Apparently my father thought the same, but I don’t. Not anymore. We need all the support we can find, but I am not Stannis. I don’t take orders from a red priestess.”

“Your father?” Connington gasped.

“We can talk about Rhaegar’s delusions later,” Rhaenys chimed in. “Right now, we need to know if you are going to fight for my brother, Lord Connington.”

Connington shot her such an angry glare that even Rhaenys must have decided not to speak ill of Rhaegar while Connington was around.

He turned to Aegon again, his face now much softer. “I’m yours now, Prince Aegon. My sword, my counsel, even my life… They’re all yours. But the Golden Company? I’m afraid you need to convince my brothers in arms for that, though I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

“Why?” Aegon asked. “We have a pact! You are the captain-general!”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t force them to follow someone they don’t want to follow. But they can be convinced, hopefully.”

“So… What now?”

“Please wait here.”

Jon Connington returned quarter an hour later, and took the siblings to another tent. There was plenty of water, food, and wine in this one.

He gave Aegon an apologetic smile. “Please, get some food and rest while I speak with the high officers.”

Aegon turned to his sister after he was gone. “Well… What do you think?”

“I think he is weird,” she said dryly, pouring herself a cup of wine. She grimaced after the first sip, though. “Fuck, I miss the Dornish red…”

“He seems so protective of our father, even after all these years. I have to agree, it is a bit weird… But it is a good thing for us, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.”

“Rhaenys…”

“Yes?”

“I am done trying to be Rhaegar’s son, you know that, right? I will only play along to impress Connington.”

Aegon still loved his father, of course, and he had no doubt that his intentions were noble. But his intentions hadn’t made his mother’s final moments any less painful, just like Aegon’s intentions hadn’t made Rhaenys’ torture any less painful. She had regained her health now, it was easy to pretend like they had never been in Meereen—as long as he ignored the scars and the missing earlobe—but Aegon didn’t want to forget the cost of his foolishness. He did want to be haunted by the guilt. That was the only way to make sure he would never repeat the same mistake.

Rhaenys smiled. “You are a good brother, Aegon. And you will make a good king as well.”

They helped themselves to some mince pie while waiting. Aegon didn’t know any of the _brothers-in-arms_ Connington was talking about. What if he failed to convince them? The Golden Company had never broken a contract before, would Rhaegar Targaryen’s heir be enough for them to make an exception?

Was he a true king, or a pathetic beggar like Viserys? Soon, he was going to have his answer. Not from someone like Rhaenys, Doran, or Oberyn, who loved and supported him unconditionally, but from battle-hardened men who wanted a true leader who could lead them to glory.

After several hours that felt like an eternity, Jon Connington returned. There was a vague smile playing about his lips, he seemed hopeful.

Aegon jumped to his feet. “So?” he asked, and hated how meek his voice sounded.

“They are… ready to meet you.”

“Well, let us not keep them waiting, then.”

They followed Connington to the captain-commander’s tent. Rhaenys put a hand on his shoulder as they walked, and whispered, “I am right here, brother. Remember, Aegon, _home_ … No magister or triarch can give them what they truly want. Only you can.”

They entered the tent, it was even more crowded than Aegon had expected. Jon Connington did the introductions. There was Harry Strickland, Connington’s second-in-command; Black Balaq, the commander of the archers; Lysono Maar, the spymaster; Gorys Edoryen, the paymaster. There were knights such as Franklyn Flowers,  Tristan Rivers, and Marq Mandrake. There were even exiled lords; Laswell Peake, and his brothers, Pykewood and Torman.

“My lords, my good sers,” Aegon began. Connington might have said that they weren’t lords, just exiles, but Aegon could see a flicker of hope on their faces. Lordships and castles were what they wanted, so he could at least give them a taste. “I believe Lord Connington told you who I am. I am not here to tell you why I must take the Iron Throne back.”

Connington’s eyes slightly widened in panic, but some of the men seemed to be paying more attention to what Aegon had to say, so he went on. “I can’t take _back_ something that was never mine to lose, and the Iron Throne was never mine to lose. It wasn’t even my father’s. The Mad King lost it before my father could even climb onto it. Let me tell you what I lost, though. I lost my home. Just like you. Perhaps my exile was a rather safe one, but an exile nevertheless. Perhaps some of you still have sympathy for House Blackfyre, and I don’t blame you for that. We cannot make peace with our friends, only with our enemies. The Golden Company put their hopes into a dragon once. I am asking you to do it again. After all, black or red, a dragon is a dragon. Let us fight together to take our home back.”

Some men nodded.

“Speaking of dragons,” Harry Strickland said, “We heard you were in Meereen with your aunt. Have you seen her dragons?”

“Aye, I have met the three dragons that hatched in the red waste.”

“Were you able to bond with one of them?”

“I was. So was my sister. But Daenerys made an unforgivable mistake; she chained up our dragons, but not hers, claiming that they had become too dangerous for her people, but she didn’t know that her people, ironically, had become too dangerous for us in the meantime. When the Wise Masters took Rhaenys captive, I had to make a choice between saving my sister and freeing the dragons. Can you blame me for choosing my sister?”

“He’s a brave lad,” Strickland told Connington. “Some might say the Red Viper was half-mad, but he raised his nephew well, no doubt. But do you realize what you want from us, Jon? We’ve never broken a contract before.”

“If we sail with him, we’ll never need another contract,” Connington reminded.

“ _This_ is your contract,” Aegon said, showing them the parchment that contained their pact. “You say your word is as good as gold. If you refuse to fight for me, you will all be oathbreakers.”

More people were nodding now, and they all seemed to be eager to sail for Westeros. They had already begun to discuss the best strategy to take King’s Landing. Should Aegon go to Dorne first and raise his banners, or should he take Dragonstone back from Stannis before attacking King’s Landing? Should they win a few easy victories first to bring more men to their cause, or use the advantage of surprise?

As others discussed loudly, Jon Connington went to Harry Strickland, and they began whispering in each other’s ear. Soon, Gorys Edoryen joined this private conversation. Then, Connington went to unlock a large a chest in the corner and took out something from it.

Everyone fell silent. Jon Connington was holding a Valyrian steel sword in his hands, a hand-and-a-half longsword.

“We are your men now, Prince Aegon,” he said. “This is Blackfyre, the famous Valyrian steel sword wielded by Aegon the Conqueror, and our founder, Aegor Rivers. We have waited for a long time to find someone worthy to wield it again.”

Aegon took the sword with trembling hands. One by one, the officers rose, knelt, and lay their swords at Aegon’s feet. Rhaenys was going to do the same, but Aegon stopped her, and held her hand instead. Rhaenys wasn’t a servant, she was his sister. His equal. In fact, she should be treated as Queen Mother, for she was the only mother he had ever known.

After it was all settled, they left the tent and Jon Connington showed them around a bit. They met his squire, Ser Rolly Duckfield, but everyone called him “Duck.” In the meantime, two new tents were being raised for them. Some of the maidens who had been given the Golden Company as payment were chosen to be Rhaenys’ handmaidens. Connington said Aegon, too, could have any of them if he wished, to warm his bed, but Aegon refused the offer.

Once he was finally alone with Rhaenys, she flung her arms around his neck. He knew that this was probably something she had wanted to do when he had been presented with Blackfyre and the high officers had knelt before him, but she knew better than embarrassing him in front of those men.

“I’m so proud of you, Aegon. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do. You never stop saying that,” he teased.

She playfully punched him in the chest. Aegon chuckled and went to pour two cups of wine. They had their own army now, that was something worth celebrating. He gave one of the cups to Rhaenys.

“To Oberyn,” she said, raising her cup.

“To Oberyn.”

“We should write to Doran,” she said thoughtfully after taking the first sip. “He will be delighted to hear that you have ten thousand men now. But soon, everyone will hear how the Golden Company broke their contract with Myr, and if Cersei’s spies see a messenger from Myr at Sunspear…”

“Aye, that would be rather suspicious. Let’s send the messenger to the Planky Town, then. That place is packed with foreigners, no one will suspect anything. He could give the letter to one of the orphans.”

“We can always trust Garin.”

“Garin, yes…” He had always been a good friend of Rhaenys and Aegon. He didn’t know who they really were, but they had kept the truth from him for his own safety, not because they didn’t trust him. “Garin can deliver our message to Doran.”

“Can I see your sword?”

“Right,” he grinned, giving Blackfyre to Rhaenys.

She examined the scabbard, the hilt, and the blade itself. “This is beautiful,” she said, testing the balance. “If anyone deserves to wield it, it is you, brother.”

“Thanks.” She gave him the sword back. Aegon had never used a bastard sword before. The hilt was long enough to be gripped by both hands, the blade was a bit longer than the blades of the usual longswords as well, but it was still light enough to be wielded with one hand when necessary.

“I am still not sure about this,” she sighed heavily, looking at her own Valyrian steel blade.

“Do you remember what Oberyn used to say about _Fire and Blood_?”

“Of course I do. ‘In Dorne, our blood is the fire.’ But what does it have to do with my cursed sword?”

“If my blood is the fire that will avenge House Martell, so be it.”

She seemed at a loss for words for a second, then apparently decided to change the subject. “My baby brother has his army,” she teased him, ruffling his silver hair.

Aegon put Blackfyre aside. “ _Our_ army,” he corrected. “Everything I have is also yours. I still don’t give a fuck about the Iron Throne, Rhaenys. I just want to be powerful enough to protect you.”

“I know, Aegon. And it is alright, I understand. Just don’t ask me to stop protecting you.”

“Then at least keep protecting me as the Queen Mother.”

“What?” she gasped.

“Once I am crowned, I want you to be treated as the Queen Mother. That was supposed to be our mother’s title, but you deserve to bear it as much as she did. Please, allow me to honor her memory by doing this.”

For a second, he thought she would burst into tears, but she didn’t. Aegon threw his arms around her, and held her close, stroking her hair. Today, men had laid their swords at his feet, and sworn fealty to him. He no longer had to be a beggar. He had an army, he had all the power he needed to keep Rhaenys safe.

Rhaenys gently pushed him away, though. “I should get going, brother.”

“Why? Did I upset you?”

“Of course you didn’t upset me. But it is getting late, and if I don’t return to my own tent now, some might think I am their future Queen, not Queen Mother. I don’t want people to get the wrong impression. We are not children anymore, Aegon.”

Rhaenys had put some distance between them after learning about Daenerys thoughts on their relationship, and Aegon hated it. He hated having to tell people why he didn’t want to fuck his sister all the time. If Rhaenys were his brother, would anyone still think they were too close? Aegon had seen her naked many times, while tending to her wounds on their way to Volantis, and hadn’t felt anything he wasn’t supposed to feel. Still, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, he let her go.

…

That night, Aegon saw himself lying in an unfamiliar bed with a girl he had never seen before resting her head on his bare chest. She was a strange, wild beauty, he thought, a sort of beauty that would only come from strength. Her grey eyes full of anger and despair, though, while Aegon's violet ones were clouded with a sad acceptance. He didn’t know who she was, or where they were, but he somehow knew that she was more than just a bedmate.


	17. Darkstar

Gerold drummed his fingers on the table as Garin of the orphans entered the great hall of High Hermitage, looking around nervously like he was having second thoughts about this visit. They never liked one another, so Gerold wondered what could possibly have brought him here. Whatever it was, it had to do something with Oberyn’s death. No doubt people thought the ungrateful, insolent Darkstar was delighted to hear that the man who had fostered, trained, and knighted him was dead. Fools, the whole lot of them. He had lost a father on the Trident once, now he had lost another in King’s Landing.

“What in seven hells are you doing here, Garin?”

“I am not happy to be here either, Darkstar. But I need your help, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

He smirked. Garin could have gone to Doran, the Sand Snakes, Daemon Sand, even to the Daynes of Starfall, yet here he was. This was getting interesting. “You must be really desperate… Sit down, then. Let’s talk.”

Garin pulled himself a chair to sit. “Prince Oberyn is dead.”

“I know,” he said dryly. He wished he could have been among the crowd that had helped Ellaria bring his bones to Sunspear. He wished he could visit his tomb at least. But he wasn’t allowed to do either of those things, for he wasn’t welcome at Sunspear, especially while Rhaenys wasn’t around.

“The Sand Snakes are restless. The whole country wants to go to war. Doran’s only heir is betrothed to a Lannister. People talk about how Cersei’s daughter is already wrapping Trystane around her fingers. It is insane, they are just children…”

“What do you want me to do?” he sneered. “To become the girl’s sworn shield? I believe she still has the Oakheart to protect her. If you think he is not good enough, go find another gallant fool. I won’t bleed for a Lannister.”

Garin was telling the truth, no doubt. The people of Dorne wouldn’t want Trystane to rule them with a Lannister by his side. Especially after Oberyn’s death. They still remembered Elia’s murder, now another Martell had been killed by Tywin’s mad dog. Myrcella had to leave Dorne, one way or the other, and Gerold didn’t think she was going to leave Dorne alive. Ser Arys Oakheart would be there to defend her, of course, but that oaf didn’t scare him. The Daynes had been killing the Oakhearts for thousands of years; surely Gerold could kill one as well.

“Myrcella isn’t the only one who is in danger,” Garin said darkly. “Prince Doran is back at Sunspear, and do you know what he did? He locked Ellaria and the Sand Snakes up in the Spear Tower! Even the youngest ones! Meria, Vorian, and Sarella are still free, I suppose, but only because they are not in Dorne. When Daemon Sand asked him to free them, Doran imprisoned him as well!”

“Is he mad?”

“I don’t know if he is mad, but the people surely are by now. Unless we give them the war they want, even Prince Doran might be in danger.”

“I don’t give a shit about him either.”

“No, but Meria does. I am no fool, Darkstar. You might be a cruel man, but your love for her is true. You don’t want to see her heart broken.”

Gerold didn’t like to be reminded of his only weakness so boldly. “So, you want to start a war… That is easy. Kill Myrcella and the Lannister army will be marching on us in no time. You don’t need me for that. In fact, it will probably easier for you to sneak into the palace.”

“I am not a murderer of children, ser. A messenger came to me in the Planky Town, told me that he had a letter for me. A letter from Meria and Vorian! They want me to tell Prince Doran that the Golden Company has broken their contract for them! But I couldn’t have gone to Doran, not after what he did to Ser Daemon, or I might have got arrested, too.”

Gerold’s heart had begun to beat faster. He hadn’t heard anything from Rhaenys in almost two years. She had written to him only once, told him that she would help her brother find Daenerys Stormborn, and wasn’t sure when they would return home, but that was all.

Garin took the letter out of his pocket. “They have hired the Golden Company! Of course they must have thought Doran would declare war after Oberyn’s death, but—“

He snatched the letter from his hand impatiently and read it. The words had been chosen carefully, in case the letter fell into the wrong hands. There was nothing that might reveal their true identities in it.

Garin went on. “Did you know that Elia’s children are still alive? Perhaps they can help us as well. I mean, they can help the Martells. You and I are not their family, but one of the Sand Snakes can seek them, and once they return to Westeros, Doran will have no choice but to declare for Aegon. I mean, his nephew—“

“You are not very smart, are you, Garin?”

“Why?” he asked, plainly offended.

“Meria and Vorian left Dorne almost two years ago, and they haven’t been back since then. In the meantime, Elia’s dead children suddenly appeared in Essos… Curious, don’t you think?”

Garin gaped at him. “You mean, Meria and Vorian…”

“Do you really believe the Golden Company would break a contract for two bastards?”

“How long have you known?”

“For years,” he said proudly. Keeping the most important secret in Dorne was his proudest achievement. “After the Sack of King’s Landing, Oberyn took Vorian to the court right away, and introduced him as his son by Ashara, but Meria stayed here, with me, until the Usurper stopped looking for them.”

“Oh!”

“Apparently, your _seers_ can’t see everything, can they, orphan?” he scoffed.

“So… What are we going to do now?”

He crossed his arms and thought for a moment. “ _We_ are not going to do anything. I will go to Myr myself. Meria and Vorian need to know what Doran has been doing, or rather, _not_ doing. But I can’t sail from the Planky Town, everyone in Dorne knows who I am. No, that would be too suspicious. I will go to Oldtown first. In the meantime, you will keep your mouth shut.”

Garin eyed him gingerly. “Will I regret this, Darkstar?”

_Another noble fool._ He wondered what Garin would do if he knew it was him who had inspired them to spread the greyscale among the Baratheons. Garin was named after Garin the Great, the famous Rhoynish prince. Oberyn had told them the story, how he had made Valyria tremble once. _“They trembled, then they killed him. If I led a quarter of a million men to death, would they call me Gerold the Great?”_ Gerold had asked Rhaenys later. Prince Garin’s story had reminded him of Rhaegar’s. They both had led men to death, and people remembered them as heroes. Garin the Great, Rhaegar the Last Dragon… No one gave a fuck about the children who lost their fathers because of such men. But the same story had amazed Rhaenys; she had wondered if she, too, could bring a curse upon her enemies if she prayed Mother Rhoyne hard enough. Strangely enough, her prayers had been answered. She soon had discovered that there was a vial of water from the Sorrows in Oberyn’s collection of deadly poisons. She had stolen this vial, and Gerold had taken care of the rest. The disease hadn’t spread among House Baratheon as they had expected, though. Stannis had found a way to cure his daughter.

"I can ask you the same question."

“I am not a traitor, Darkstar.”

“Neither am I.”

“I know. I only told you the truth because I knew Meria trusted you.”

Garin took his leave, and Gerold decided to gather his belongings. There was no time to lose.

…

The Prince’s Pass was the shortest route to the Reach, so Gerold decided to take that one. On his way, he remembered the day he had taken Rhaenys’ maidenhead as he rode by the Tower of Joy. Both were too young and too clumsy back then; they must have looked like idiots while trying to fuck amidst the dust and the cobwebs. Although he had tried his best to be gentle and patient, he had still hurt Rhaenys the moment he had entered her for the first time, and he had spilled his seed embarrassingly soon. But he had felt a strange pride when he saw her maiden’s blood on his cock, and instead of mocking him, she had smiled, saying he had been very sweet.

Not all the places along the route were deserted like the Tower of Joy, though. He had to be careful not to be seen, especially around Skyreach, otherwise the Fowlers would tell Doran that Darkstar was up to something. Nymeria Sand was still imprisoned, though, and that girl was really close to the Fowler twins. If he got caught, he could tell them that he had a plan to set the Sand Snakes free. That might convince them to keep their mouths shut, but thankfully, he didn’t have to tell anyone anything. He reached Oldtown without being seen, and stayed in the Quill and Tankard until he found a ship to Myr. The serving wenches were eager to entertain him, but he refused them all, although almost two years of celibacy didn’t make it easy. But Gerold had made Rhaenys a promise, and he wasn’t a weak man. He was neither a prince, nor a dragon, but at least it gave him pride to know that he was much stronger than Rhaegar had ever been. He would never succumb to the same weakness that had led ten thousand Dornishmen—one of them was his own father—to their deaths on the Trident. And he realized he had indeed made the right decision when he saw Sarella Sand in the inn one evening. If she saw Gerold with another woman in his arms, she would immediately tell Rhaenys. Sarella obviously had her own secrets, though. She was disguised as a novice boy, and had come to the inn with three other novices from the Citadel. She saw him, too, and her eyes widened in panic for a short moment, but Gerold decided to leave her to whatever game she was playing this time.

…

“Whoa!” a guard on the watchtower yelled. “That’s about far enough. State your business.”

“I am Ser Gerold Dayne of High Hermitage. I have brought news from Dorne.”

The guards must have been expecting him, or at least someone from Dorne, because they opened the gates for Gerold immediately. He dismounted his stallion and walked into the military encampment. A young boy asked if he could take the horse. He nodded.

“Follow me, ser,” one of the guards said. “The prince has been expecting to hear from his uncle.”

Gerold had never seen a real war before, but he had been craving it for years. This military encampment was such a beautiful sight. It was a pity, though. Robert Baratheon, Eddard Stark, Jon Arryn, Tywin Lannister… The enemies that truly mattered were dead. All they had were children, cripples, and women who wouldn’t even be able to draw a sword without cutting their fingers.

The guard took him to a vast tent made of cloth-of-gold, surrounded by a ring of pikes topped with gilded skulls. Inside, there were at least a dozen of men gathered around a table, arguing. The high officers, he presumed. Their precious dragon prince, Aegon, and… Rhaenys. She looked different, though. She had long, dark scars on her face, and the modest clothes she was wearing made him think that she was hiding more scars under it. Rhaenys would always dress plainly, but not very modestly. _“I don’t have much to show,”_ she would say. _“Which means I don’t have much to hide either.”_ But now, she definitely had something to hide.

Aegon must have dismissed the officers while he was studying her, because they began to leave the tent, one by one.

“Gerold?” Rhaenys asked once they were alone, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was trying to hide her face by keeping her head down, pretending to study the map on the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” He ignored Aegon, crossed to her, gently cupped her face, and forced her to look at him.

“Of course I am.” She tried to smile, but she seemed embarrassed, as if she had been caught doing something wrong.

“Of all people in Dorne, why did Doran send you here, Darkstar?” Aegon asked suspiciously.

But Gerold was too angry to explain himself to her idiot brother. “Who did this to you?”

“Some people in Meereen.”

“Meereen? So, this happened while you were with that Targaryen girl…” Everyone had heard that Daenerys Stormborn had declared herself the Queen of Meereen. And Aegon was the only reason Rhaenys had been in Meereen.

“Yes.”

“This happened because of you, Aegon! You are your father’s son! You have always been your father’s son! Are you proud of yourself now?”

“I was a fool, ser, you don’t need to remind me of that. And I know I deserve to be punished. So, go ahead and punish me. No one will stop you.”

“Both of you, enough!” she cried. “What happened to Meereen was my fault. I threatened to kill Daenerys. I plotted against her. I… I chose to marry a Meereenese nobleman to start a alliance with the masters against her.”

“You were going to marry a foreigner?” Gerold had thought his rage couldn’t possibly get any worse, but apparently it could.

“I had no choice! Daenerys refused to marry Aegon. She wanted him to join the Night’s Watch. And I was either going to become a silent sister, or help her keep the peace in Meereen by marrying a Meereenese nobleman. I thought I could unite the slave masters against Daenerys. I thought I was being clever. I walked right into a trap while trying to earn their love. Aegon saved my life, you should be grateful to him.”

“You should have never been with the Targaryen girl in the first place,” he told Aegon.

“On that we agree,” Aegon admitted.

“Aegon even gave up on our dragons to get me out of Meereen alive,” she added.

Gerold frowned. “Your dragons?”

“I have bonded with Rhaegal, and Aegon has bonded with Viserion. But I don’t think we will ever see them again.”

Gerold looked at Rhaenys in disbelief. “I didn’t know you wanted a dragon for yourself.”

“It wasn’t up to me, Gerold. You have no idea how stubborn dragons can get. But it doesn’t matter anymore. They will probably waste away in the catacombs.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” Mayhaps Rhaenys having a dragon wasn’t such a bad thing.

“I don’t like it, but there is nothing we can do, love. Years ago, I promised my brother a throne, and I promised you vengeance. The dragons will have to wait until I fulfill those promises.”

She took Gerold’s hands, and placed a kiss on his lips before she continued. “Now tell me, is Doran ready to wage war?”

He let out a troubled sigh. “About that…”

“Yes?” she asked impatiently.

He told them everything. How Doran had imprisoned the Sand Snakes and the Bastard of Godsgrace, how people cried out for war, and why Garin had chosen to come to Gerold.

Rhaenys and Aegon swapped looks.

“We can’t trust Doran anymore,” Aegon muttered angrily. Gerold hadn’t expected him to give up on his uncle so easily.

“What? Why?” she cried.

“Oberyn is dead. We don’t know who Doran is without him. And if Trystane is indeed in love with Myrcella… Doran might choose his son’s happiness over us.”

“You can’t be serious, brother.”

“We can’t afford to lose Dorne to two foolish young lovers,” Aegon went on. “We must get rid of Myrcella.”

Aegon had changed, Gerold could see it now. But he liked this new Aegon better.

“She is just a child!” Rhaenys gasped.

This time Aegon and Gerold exchanged meaningful looks. Was she really defending the Lannister girl?

“I thought you hated Myrcella,” Aegon said.

“I am done punishing people for the crimes they didn’t commit, brother. I don’t want the Lord of Light to take someone I love for my sins again.”

“Rhaenys, don’t let Kinvara’s words get to you. Oberyn’s death has nothing to do with our sins.”

“What if it does?”

_She is just mad with grief_ , Gerold reminded himself. _She doesn’t know what she is saying._ Surely his princess hadn’t become one of those crazy Red God fanatics during her time in Essos.

“If we are not going to punish people for the crimes they didn’t commit, how am I supposed to have the vengeance you promised me, Rhaenys? Robert Baratheon is dead! His loyal dog, Eddard Stark is dead! Even Tywin Lannister is dead! Who am I going to kill to avenge my father?”

Arthur had died protecting a Northern whore, yet when the whore’s brother came to Starfall to return Dawn, the Daynes had welcomed him, instead of taking his head. _“It was so honorable of Lord Stark,”_ they had said. Gerold’s father had been killed by Robert Baratheon himself on the Trident. When his bones were brought to High Hermitage, Gerold had seen that half of his skull was gone. _“You should be proud of him,”_ they had said. But Gerold didn’t want that sort of pride. He was a Dayne. The Daynes were the Kings of the Torrentine once; the blood of those kings still flowed in his veins. That gave him all the pride he needed. He wanted revenge, yet no one had cared. No one but Rhaenys. She had promised him revenge, and Gerold had decided that she was the princess he wanted to serve. His ancestors might have been kings, but Gerold wasn’t a king. He wasn’t even a lord. As a Dayne of High Hermitage, he wasn’t allowed to be more than a landed knight. He had been born to serve, but at least he was fortunate to serve Rhaenys. Now, was the princess he believed in going to betray him, too?

“Death?” she asked softly. “Do you think death is the worst thing we can give to our enemies?”

“What do you mean?”

She went to the map on the table. It was a map of Westeros.

She put her finger on the stormlands. “This is where we will start. Robert Baratheon might be dead, but it doesn’t matter. His beloved ancestral home still stands, and it will be taken by the dragonspawn he loathed so much.”

“You mean to take Storm’s End? That place has never fallen to a siege before!”

“Only a fool would lay a siege to Storm’s End,” she said with a dangerous smirk. “Lysono told me that Stannis Baratheon is looking for sellswords, while his uncle holds Storm’s End for him. Connington is right, we can take it by guile. If the Golden Company says they have been hired by Stannis, Stannis’ uncle will open the gates for us, just like the Mad King opened the gates for the Lannister army.”

“The Tyrell forces will be a problem, though,” Aegon reminded her. “We will have to fight them off first to make it look convincing.”

“Then we will fight them off,” Gerold said eagerly.

“I imagine Jon Connington will also want Griffin’s Roost back,” she sighed. “It was his home once. We have promised the other high officers lands and titles as well. We shall kill anyone who refuses to bend the knee and give their lands to the high officers.”

“It sounds like a good plan. But then what?” Aegon asked.

“We need to prove ourselves to Doran. If we take stormlands, our victories will give him the confidence he needs. He will decide to join us, and he will tell Trystane the truth about the Lannisters. I don’t care how much he thinks he loves Myrcella, he is a decent boy. He will not choose a pretty girl over his family. The Golden Company, stormlands, and Dorne… Together, we can take King’s Landing. And once we no longer need a Lannister hostage, we can send Myrcella to the silent sisters, and Tommen to the Wall.”

“Still, you put too much faith in Uncle Doran.”

She crossed her arms. “Do you have a better idea?”

“We can force Doran’s hand to join us.”

“And how exactly are we going to do that?”

“You will marry a Dornishman,” he said, looking at Gerold. “Ser Gerold is of Dorne, and he is highborn enough to be your husband.”

She shook her head. “There is no need for that.”

“This is the only way to protect you.”

“From whom, exactly?”

“From yourself. And from Doran.”

“Doran is not Daenerys! This is madness...”

“I am not so sure, sister! He has imprisoned his kin, just like Daenerys imprisoned us.”

“It is probably for their own protection! Doran wouldn’t torment them. I am sure they are provided with every comfort.”

“This is your king’s command, Rhaenys. I told you, I will never let you sell yourself off again. Once we return to Westeros, we will find a septon, and you two will get married.”

Rhaenys let out a heavy, thoughtful sigh. “I suppose a new council meeting is in order…”

“Don’t worry about that, sister. You and Darkstar seem to have a lot to discuss. Go. I will talk to Connington myself.”

“Come, Gerold,” she said softly, and led him out of the tent.

“How exactly did you convince the Golden Company to fight for Aegon?” he asked as they walked.

“Doran had sent Oberyn to Essos to make a secret pact with them after the war. We had no idea until we read Oberyn’s letter. Besides, they like Aegon. He might not be a Blackfyre, but he is a dragon, wronged by other dragons. Some even think he should found his own house, like Daemon Blackfyre did.”

“Will he?”

“I don’t know… So, Gerold, do you like my plan? Will you be satisfied once we take Storm’s End from the Baratheons?”

“Of course I will, love.”

“Good. Did you bed with other women while I was gone?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Pity… You should have.”

“Why? Did you…”

“No! No, I have never desired anyone other than you. But I wasn’t truly faithful to you either. I was almost going to become another man’s wife. And I understand if you think I am not good enough for you anymore. I know, I was never a great beauty, but now I am hideous. We have to get married, apparently, but you can take as many paramours as you please. I won’t take it as an insult.”

“Would you abandon me for a scar, love?”

“Never.”

“Then why do you think that I will?”

“You haven’t seen the rest of me.”

“Show me, then."

They walked a little more, and then went into another tent. This one was obviously hers. She seemed unsure at first, but then, she began to remove her clothes slowly. Gerold stood there and stared at her, with a determined look on his face. She understood her fears. Her mother had been humiliated, abandoned, raped, tortured, and murdered because of his weak, unfaithful father. Both Rhaenys and Gerold had suffered because of weak, unfaithful men. Weak men would fuck the realm like they fucked their whores. Gerold would die before he turned into such a man.

Soon, Rhaenys was naked as her name day before him. She was right, there were more scars. On her chest, her arms, her belly, her legs… She was covering her breasts with her hands, though.

“Let me see,” he whispered, gently forcing her to reveal her breasts as well. And when she did, Gerold saw that her nipples had been cut off.

“I will never be able to feed our children at my own breast…”

“ _Our_ children?”

“I have promised you vengeance, haven’t I? Robert Baratheon might have killed your father, but his blood still runs through your veins. And it will run through in our children’s veins as well. I will never kill your seed again, my love. Only then, your father will be truly avenged. Why do you look so surprised?”

Gerold didn’t even know what to say. _Their_ children. Half Martell, half Dayne… _The sun can only mate with the star._  He wouldn't be surprised if those children were born with a sword in their hands. But he had accepted the fact that he would die without siring an heir. Rhaenys had never said that she wanted to bear his children, and Gerold had simply assumed that it wasn’t something she wanted.  “I—I thought you were born to be warrior, not a mother.”

“I can be both. I might be disgusting, Gerold, but at least I am finally free to be yours.”

He was now even more confused. “I thought you didn’t want to marry me. You told Aegon that it was madness.”

“I only said that because I wasn’t sure if this was the right time. No one knows what exactly Doran is planning, and this marriage might ruin his plans.”

“We are perfectly capable of making our own plans,” he said, stroking the dark, shiny hair that fell down to the small of her back in big, soft ringlets. Mayhaps that was selfish of him, but he was glad that the torturers hadn’t touched her hair at least. That was the most beautiful part of her. And her olive skin was still glowing in the candlelight, despite the scars, just like the sun herself. He took her hand, and placed it on his cock, to let her see how badly he needed her. Together, they quickly got rid of his clothes, too, and he was inside her once again. Only, this time they weren’t only coupling for pleasure, but for a child as well.

“Were you serious about not killing my seed again?”

“Of course I was. I will never drink moon tea again, ever. I will give you as many children as I can, before…

“Before what?”

“I don’t know.”

The promise made him want to fuck her harder, but something in her eyes stopped him. Rhaenys had always liked it rough, but now, she was almost frightened. There was something wrong. Rhaenys had never been timid. She was supposed to be moaning in pleasure, scratching and biting his skin, begging him to go deeper. She was doing none of those things now.

“Rhaenys, it is me,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure what he had really meant by that, but for some reason, it had felt like the right to say.

“I know, love. Don’t stop now, please.”

And he didn’t stop, until he spent his seed within her. Even then, he didn’t let her go. He held her close, together they curled up in the featherbed, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.


	18. The Prince of Storm's End

Aegon returned to Westeros as the prince he was always meant to be. The Golden Company started their conquest with Griffin's Roost. Rhaenys and Gerold got married at Lord Connington’s castle in a quiet ceremony, and then they went on capturing more castles from the Baratheon supporters. Soon, Storm's End was theirs. Aegon led the assaults himself with Rhaenys and Gerold by his side. Everyone knew Stannis had left Dragonstone to find sellswords, so when they drove off the Tyrell forces that had laid siege to Storm's End, and the Golden Company claimed that they were here on Stannis' orders, they easily gained access to the fortress that had never fallen to a siege before. Afterwards, Aegon and Rhaenys revealed themselves and anyone who refused to surrender was killed.

Once Storm’s End was captured, there was no reason to hide whom the Golden Company actually supported. Now it was time to raise his banners, spread the word and bring more people to his cause. Jon Connington thought Aegon needed a coronation, but he refused. The Baratheons had taken the Iron Throne from House Targaryen by the right of conquest, and Aegon could only become the rightful king after he took it by the right of conquest. Until then, he was going to wear no crown.

But on his first night at Storm’s End, the Iron Throne was the least of his concerns. He was thinking of his cousins as he watched the Shipbreaker Bay in his private quarters. The autumn storms that had given them some trouble on their way to the stormlands had subsided tonight. The sea was calm. Aegon wondered if Daemon, Ellaria, and the Sand Snakes were still imprisoned. He hoped Doran had only imprisoned them for their own safety, he really did. But how could he be sure? How could he trust him just because he was his uncle? Daenerys was supposed to be his aunt, and they were almost going to die because of her. He had done the right thing; Rhaenys’ marriage to a Dayne would force Doran’s hand, and no one would be able to trade her for power again, as long as Darkstar lived. Not even Rhaenys herself. He loved his sister, but her devotion to the people she loved was almost unnatural. She needed to be protected from herself as well.

“Aegon?”

“Yes, sister?”

Rhaenys opened the door. Ser Gerold was with her. “Aegon, I need your help with something,” she said under her breath, and closed the door slowly.

“Of course. Anything…”

She looked at her husband before speaking. “I haven’t bled since the wedding.”

“Well, I am sure Maester Jurne can give you some moon tea…”

“What?” Rhaenys gasped in horror.

“Wait… You two have been _hoping_ for a…”

Gerold laughed. “It was you who told us to get married. Why do you look so surprised?”

“I thought you would at least be more careful if you wanted a child,” he scolded them. Aegon had had no idea, because Rhaenys had fought as fiercely as ever during their conquest of stormlands. What if Rhaenys had got injured during one of those battles?

“We don’t know if I am pregnant, brother! I don’t want to ask Maester Jurne, I don’t know if he can be trusted. We don't know him well enough. But you have been trained by the orphans of the Greenblood. I thought you could tell us.”

“I think I can… Lie down over there, on the sofa.”

Rhaenys did as she was told, Gerold took her hand, and Aegon knelt down beside her. She lifted her tunic, exposing her belly, which was still flat and muscular. Aegon placed her hands on it and tried to sense if a new life had been quickened inside. He had never actually done this before, but he knew what to do.

 _“All men are made of water,”_ Syrio had once told Aegon. Those words had made more sense after he had started training with the elders of the Greenblood. There was a reason those who practiced water magic were also excellent healers. Water meant creation, not destruction; it was the source of life.

And indeed, he felt something. “There is a child in your womb, Rhaenys… A boy… A girl…”

“What?” she asked.

Aegon grinned. “Twins.”

“A—are you sure?”

“Of course I am sure.”

Aegon felt a strange mixture of sadness and relief when Rhaenys flung her arms around his neck. He was going to be an uncle, but his niece and nephew probably wouldn’t even remember him. He would just be another story for them, just like their grandmother Elia, or their great-uncle Oberyn. But at least they were going to give Rhaenys a reason not to follow her brother to the grave after sacrificing him. She wouldn’t let them grow up without a mother.

She then went to Gerold, and he held her in his arms delicately, as if she were made of glass, but Darkstar was too proud to show his emotions in front of other people. Still, the two men exchanged meaningful looks. They were both thinking the same thing.

“We are at war, Rhaenys,” Aegon said softly. “But now, our priority must be the safety of these children.”

She laid her hands on her belly in a protective manner. “What do you mean?”

“You have to let us do the fighting from now on, Princess,” Gerold replied, and Aegon nodded in agreement.

“I am not a cripple, I am just pregnant,” she scoffed, and expected them to laugh with her, but they didn’t.

Her grin faded away. “I have devoted my life to this war! Are you going to keep me hidden in some castle until you win?”

“No one is going to keep you hidden, sister. But you don’t even have to wield a sword to command an army. You are good at this. It was your idea to take Storm’s End. And it was a great idea. I am sure you have other great ideas as well.”

“I am strong!”

“Of course you are, love, but our children are not. Not yet.”

Aegon looked at his brother by law, the man he used to despise, with gratitude. “I can’t believe how well we have been getting along lately,” he teased.

“Well, mayhaps you two should have got married instead,” Rhaenys muttered angrily.

Aegon laughed. “What a scandal that would be…”

Someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

It was Duck. “You have a visitor from Dorne, Your Grace.”

“Who?”

“Ser Daemon Sand.”

Aegon’s heart jumped. “Let him come.”

And soon, Daemon was standing in the doorway, looking at Gerold, Rhaenys, and Aegon. He knew. Was he angry? Did he feel betrayed? Aegon wondered who had told him the truth. Doran, or one of the Sand Snakes? But he knew, that much was obvious.

Daemon approached him with hasty steps, and went to one knee. “Your Grace.”

“There is no need for that, Daemon. It is still me. Stand up.”

Daemon scrambled to his feet. “I have brought grave news from Dorne. Trystane is dead.”

Aegon’s first instinct was to look at Rhaenys, who was, thankfully, still in Darkstar’s arms.

“Rhaenys, you must remain calm,” he told her.

“She is pregnant,” Aegon explained.

“Oh!” Daemon said. “I didn’t know…”

“What happened?” Rhaenys asked.

“Cersei sent a man to take Myrcella back to King’s Landing. He was fleeing the Water Gardens with her when Trystane saw them. The poor boy apparently tried to stop them, but… The Sand Snakes caught them both before they could leave Dorne, though, and brought them to Doran at Sunspear. Myrcella and her handmaiden, Rosamund, are now imprisoned in the Spear Tower, Trystane’s murderer was executed, Ser Arys Oakheart is missing, and the rest of Myrcella’s attendants have been sent to Ghaston Grey.”

“NOOO!!!” Rhaenys’ scream pierced his ears. She was now shaking with sobs.

“Gerold, take my sister to her chambers,” he said. “I wish to speak with Daemon alone.”

“Come, love. Let’s go,” he said, but Rhaenys refused to leave. Gerold finally scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the room.

“This is my fault,” Aegon admitted after they were gone. “I was the one who forced Rhaenys and Gerold to wed. Cersei must have panicked when the news reached her. I am an idiot!”

Aegon couldn’t believe what he had done. He had doubted the man who had raised and protected him and his sister. He had compared him to Daenerys. It was as if he had been possessed by an evil spirit lately. But with Trystane’s death, he had returned to his old self. The suspicion and the paranoia were gone. All he had left was guilt and shame. Poor, sweet Trystane was dead because of him…

“No, it is not,” Daemon said. “The Sand Snakes had sent Cersei a threat. Myrcella’s necklace, in the jaws of a viper… That was why Prince Doran imprisoned them. He set them free once they promised not to go behind his back again, but what was done was done.”

“I thought you were a prisoner in the Spear Tower as well.”

“It was a gentle prison. Prince Doran wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to do anything reckless. He told me the truth about you after freeing me. He sent me here to speak with you and Rhaenys.”

“Does he hate us?” Aegon couldn’t blame him if he did. How was he supposed to look at Doran’s face after this?

“Hate you? Of course he doesn’t hate you, Aegon. He named Rhaenys his heir after Trystane’s death. He told me to stay here with you, but he wants her to return to Dorne.”

“What?” he gasped. Rhaenys was now heir to Dorne…

“He is not well, Aegon. Trystane’s death was too much for him. Rhaenys needs to go to Sunspear at once. Maester Caleotte thinks he doesn’t have much time left.”

Aegon shut his eyes and took another deep breath. “I need to see him, too. I need to apologize to him.”

“There is no need for that. You have to stay here and defend Storm’s End. The Lannisters will soon try to take it back. We must be prepared.”

“But Doran…”

“He said he was proud of you.” Daemon pulled him into an embrace, and attempted to kiss him, but Aegon pushed him away.

“I am sorry, Daemon, but we can’t do this anymore.”

“Of course,” he said, taking a step back. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t. I can’t keep doing this to you, Daemon. I don’t deserve your love.”

“But I told you, Aegon. I know you don’t love me as much as I love you, but I don’t care. Just let me serve you. Let me keep you happy, and safe. That’s all I ask.”

“What if I am in love with someone else, though?”

“Who?”

“A girl I saw in a dream. I haven’t met her yet.”

Daemon frowned in confusion.

“Some of my dreams come true,” Aegon explained. “It was one of those dreams.”

“I am not a jealous man, Aegon. I can share you.”

“Aye, but we don’t know if _she_ will be willing to share me.”

This was painful for Daemon, Aegon could see it in his eyes. But at least he would have time to be prepared.

“Forgive me, Daemon,” he said softly, and kissed his lips for one final time. “If only I had been allowed to be honest with you... Things could have been different. But I suppose we will never know."

…

Aegon knocked on Rhaenys’ door. It was Darkstar who opened it.

“How is she?”

“Your sister loves people too much, Aegon. One day it is going to destroy her.”

“I want to speak with her alone.”

He shrugged. “Alright.”

Aegon entered the solar, and closed the door behind him. Rhaenys wasn’t here. So, he went to her bedchambers and found her sitting in the large bed, knees drawn to her chest and arms wrapped around them. Her dark eyes were red and swollen.

“I am trying not to get _too_ upset,” she said quickly, rubbing her eyes. “You and Gerold are right, I must protect my unborn children.”

“Good. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to them because of me, too.”

“It wasn’t your fault, brother. Daemon told me everything. But I don’t blame the Sand Snakes either. I don’t get to blame them after all the horrible things I have done myself.”

“I don’t blame them either. People make mistakes when they are sad. But there is no excuse for what I did."

“Gerold and I will leave for Sunspear at first light.”

“About that… I know Doran has named you his heir, but I don’t want you to be the Ruling Princess of Dorne, Rhaenys. I want you to be the Queen of Westeros.”

“What?” she gasped, taken aback.

“Isn’t that obvious? I am not fit to rule, and I don’t even have a crown yet. Both Oberyn and Trystane would be alive if I had listened to you. You would be unharmed. You are better. You have always been better. And by Dornish law, the Iron Throne is yours. I don’t want to usurp my sister’s throne.”

He thought she was going to decline the offer immediately, as she had done years ago, but this time, she didn’t. “Let me speak to Doran first, alright?”

“We have time, Rhaenys, don’t worry. Go to Sunspear, you will be safer there. I can defend Storm’s End if need be. We have to wait until you give birth before attacking King’s Landing anyway. The Mountain will be there, and you are the only one who can kill him.”

“I suppose I am…” she sighed thoughtfully.

Aegon decided to talk about something different. “I told Daemon about the girl in my dream.”

She raised her eyebrows, interested. “And?”

“He is not jealous.”

“You say you aren’t in love with him, but I think you are.”

“I am not in love with him. I care about him, as a friend. There is a difference.”

“Is this why you don’t want to be king anymore? To be free to marry for love?”

“No!” To be honest, the thought had never occurred to him before.

“I believe you, brother. But it is alright. Whoever she is, you deserve to be happy with her.”

 _Darkstar is right_ , he thought. _She loves people too much_. And her love for Aegon was going to destroy her one day. He only hoped that his niece and nephew would forgive him. But then, he had a terrible, terrible realization.

Rhaenys had to kill the one she loved most.

Aegon had always been the one she loved most, but soon, she was going to become a mother. She was going to have her own children. Mothers loved their children more than anything else. He was a fool, to take his place in Rhaenys’ heart for granted. He had thought he was sacrificing his own life to avenge Oberyn when he told her to take Dragonspawn back. What if it was his niece or nephew he had actually sacrificed?


	19. Lion Blood

“Will you at least stop smiling?” Rhaenys scolded Gerold, who was beaming with pride. He got what he wanted at last. He might have been denied Dawn, but now he was going to be consort to the Ruling Princess of Dorne. He wasn’t going to be another forgotten Dayne in history. “Have some respect for my grief!”

“Trystane doesn’t deserve your grief, love. He was weak, just like Rhaegar. They both betrayed their own flesh and blood for a whore. My cousin, Ashara, was in love with the enemy, too, but at least she had the grace to throw herself from a tower when Eddard Stark killed her brother.”

“Aegon and I would be dead had it not been for Lady Ashara. Or, have you forgotten?”

“Of course I haven’t,” he said softly, and put a gentle kiss on her lips.

“And Lord Stark demanded justice for my mother. We owe the Starks a debt because of that.”

“The Starks are gone. How exactly are you going to pay your _debt_? By bringing them back from the dead?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

They had sailed from Storm’s End about a week ago, now they could see Sunspear on the horizon. The Tower of the Sun, and the Spear Tower; they were the first things people would see when they arrived at Sunspear, whether by land, or by sea. The sight was supposed to fill her with joy, but she felt as if an invisible hand was crushing her heart as she looked at the palace. Oberyn and Trystane weren’t somewhere within these walls anymore. At least Oberyn had lived a good life. He had fathered eight daughters, seen the world, enjoyed every sort of pleasure there was. But Trys… He was just a child. He had died before he could truly live. The poor, sweet Trystane had fallen in love with the enemy, and paid for that mistake with his life.

Ellaria and all the Sand Snakes, save for Sarella, were waiting for her at the docks. Like Rhaenys, they were completely dressed in black, as a sign of their mourning. They were staring at her disfigured face in suspicion, but none of them asked her anything. She greeted each one with a warm hug, and then they set off to the Old Palace together.

“Where is Sarella?”

Nym shrugged. “Sarella is on the Summer Isles with her mother. She probably doesn’t even know that our father is dead.”

Rhaenys frowned. Oberyn had lied to them about Sarella’s whereabouts. Why?

But she couldn’t think much about Sarella when she felt the curious gazes of people on herself. The Sand Snakes hadn’t led her and her husband through the Threefold Gate. Instead, they were passing through the labyrinth of the shadow city. They wanted her to be seen.

“Everyone knows who Meria and Vorian Sand really are,” Tyene explained. “Doran wanted us to spread the word after he named you his heir.”

“It should have been one of you,” Rhaenys muttered. Aegon could have legitimized them, so that one of the Sand Snakes could rule Dorne as a Martell.

“Why?” Obara asked.

“Princess Rhaenys! To the spears!” A shopkeeper started cheering for her. “The Dragon of Dorne!”

More people joined him. “The Dragon of Dorne! The Dragon of Dorne! The Dragon of Dorne!”

Rhaenys shook her head in disapproval. “See? This is why. I am a Targaryen, not a Martell. I don’t deserve to take Princess Nymeria’s throne.”

“Don’t look so grim,” Nym advised her. “The people love you, show them some gratitude.”

Rhaenys was in no mood to entertain the smallfolk, though. Doran was dying, and all she wanted was to see him. When they reached Doran’s apartments, they found Areo Hotah standing guard outside.

“Hello, Areo,” Rhaenys greeted him with a sad smile.

“Princess,” he bowed his head. “Prince Doran wishes to speak with you alone.”

She nodded, and Areo opened the door for her. She found Doran in his bedchambers, with Maester Caleotte, who was now helping him sit up in the bed. He looked so fragile that Rhaenys was scared to approach him.

“Rhaenys?” he asked softly when he saw her hesitation. “Welcome home, my dear.”

And then, Rhaenys burst into tears, ran to her uncle, and flung her arms around his neck. Both Doran and Caleotte waited patiently as she wept in his arms for at least quarter an hour.

“Forgive me, Uncle,” she said, when she was finally able to speak again.

“There is nothing to forgive…”

“Is that so?” she asked in disbelief. “You were the one who taught me what a grave mistake it was, to marry for love.”

“Rhaenys, you and I both know that you didn’t marry Darkstar for love. You wanted to force me to declare for your brother. Why, Rhaenys? Why did you doubt me? We were never close, I know. I never indulged you the way Oberyn did, but I thought you trusted me, at least.”

Rhaenys gulped. He couldn’t tell him that it was Aegon who had doubted him. No, he couldn’t do that to her little brother…

“Rhaenys, you are the heir to Dorne now. It is your duty to be honest with me.”

She fell down on her knees. “Help me, Uncle!”

Doran frowned in confusion. “What?”

“I am losing Aegon. The burden of the throne is too much for him. Help me!”

“Calm down, Rhaenys. Tell me what happened. Tell me everything.”

And so she did. She told him everything. Everything but the Lightbringer. It was the only thing that could kill the Mountain, and Dragonspawn’s secret had to be kept from everyone. There were too many eyes and ears at Sunspear.

By the time she was finished, Doran seemed truly disturbed by what had happened to Aegon. But she had the impression that Rhaenys being tortured had been the most painful part for him to hear.

“He is better now,” she added. “Trystane’s death made him see the error in his ways. But if Daenerys comes to Westeros… I know the Iron Throne is not why he really wants her dead, but if he kills her, he will become a kinslayer. He will be a part of the Targaryen legacy. I don’t want this for him, Uncle. Tell me what to do.”

He thought for a moment before speaking. “Do you want to be the Queen of Westeros, Rhaenys?”

“What I want doesn’t matter. The Seven Kingdoms have never had a ruling queen before. This is a great risk. At least Daenerys has the dragons. And she can use her beauty to gain people’s support. Who would follow _me_?”

“Your brother. And Dorne.”

“They won’t be enough.”

“There is a way…”

“I told you, Aegon won’t bend the knee.”

“I am not talking about bending the knee, Rhaenys. Your brother is too proud for that. Do you remember what Lyonel Baratheon did when House Targaryen wronged him and his daughter?”

“He rebelled against the throne...”

“The Seven Kingdoms are falling apart, Rhaenys. The North and the Iron Islands have never really been a part of the Seven Kingdoms. The Vale wants to stay out of the conflict. I don’t think the alliance between the Lannisters and the Tyrells will last long, but Dorne and the Reach are old enemies. They would never truly be loyal to a half-Martell on the Iron Throne. The remaining three kingdoms belong to the Lannisters. And we… I think my predecessors made a grave mistake when they trusted the Targaryens and joined the Seven Kingdoms. And unless Daenerys Stormborn wishes to be a kinslayer herself, she has no choice but to leave you be."

“Is this what you want me to do? To declare independence? What about Aegon?”

“He can be the Prince of Storm’s End, and your bannerman."

“And then what?”

“The Lannisters will eventually come for Myrcella. Ours is a harsh land, Rhaenys, and I believe Oberyn taught you how to use it as a weapon against our enemies… Also, Mellario… Mellario can help.”

“I thought Lady Mellario hated us.”

“Do you think I don’t know my own wife well enough, Rhaenys?” he asked with a sad smile. “Promise her vengeance for Trystane, and she will do everything in her power to help you.”

Rhaenys remained silent.

“You don’t like it,” Doran observed. “Why?”

“I am a Targaryen, I can’t rule Dorne. You declare independence, Uncle, and legitimize the Sand Snakes.”

“Why would I do that? They are Oberyn’s children. Elia was our mother’s second born, and Oberyn the third.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I am a Targaryen.”

“Aye, your father was a Targaryen. But your mother was a Martell. If you have the blood, you can have the name.”

“Can I?” Rhaenys asked. Being a Martell… This was all she had ever wanted.

“Children can have their mother’s name if hers is a more powerful one. Look around, Rhaenys. Do you think the Targaryens have any power in this land right now?”

“No.”

“So? You have more than enough reason to renounce Rhaegar’s name. Who is going to stop you from calling yourself a Martell?”

Yes, this was indeed what she wanted. The perfect way to get back at the Targaryens. The perfect way to get back at Rhaegar. Would Aegon agree with her, though? He had become so unpredictable lately.

She nodded. “I want my children to be Martells.”

“Your children?”

Rhaenys hadn’t told him yet. “I am pregnant, Uncle. Aegon says I will have twins. A boy and a girl.”

Doran smiled, and his dull eyes suddenly became more alive. “I am so happy for you, my dear.”

“Does that mean we have your blessing, Uncle? I know you don’t like Gerold, but—“

“You have my blessing, Rhaenys. Now, let me have some rest. Caleotte, bring me the milk of the poppy.”

Rhaenys didn’t want to leave him. But he wanted to be alone, so she scrambled to her feet and forced herself to walk out of the room. She thought she heard him moan in pain as she slowly closed the door behind her, but she couldn’t be certain.

…

Three days later, Prince Doran Nymeros Martell died in his sleep. Maester Caleotte, who had confirmed the pregnancy, had given her a tonic for the nerves before she attended the funeral with the rest of the court at the sept. When they returned from the funeral, Rhaenys told Areo Hotah to bring Myrcella and Rosamund to the throne room. She wanted to speak with them. She climbed the steps to the top of the Tower of the Sun, where the throne room was, with Gerold, Ellaria, and the Sand Snakes trailing behind her.

She hadn’t seen the throne room in years, but it was exactly as she remembered. Only, this time, the seat bearing the blazing Rhoynish sun was hers. Slowly, she approached the seat, and touched it, as if she wanted to make sure that it was real.

“It is yours now,” Gerold said.

“Is that supposed to make me happy?”

 “One day, perhaps. We have a legacy to build, Rhaenys. Together. For our children.”

Normally, Rhaenys, Ellaria, and the Sand Snakes would be celebrating her pregnancy, but their hearts were heavy with grief. They were almost too scared to be happy about anything. Ellaria was different, though. There was more than grief, or fear in her eyes. There was something that made Rhaenys uneasy.

She sat down on the seat with the blazing Rhoynish sun, and then Gerold took his place beside her. Areo Hotah and two other guards soon returned, with Myrcella, and Rosamund.

Myrcella had become even more beautiful in the past two years, it was easy to see why Trystane had been infatuated with her.

“Hello, Myrcella,” Rhaenys said coldly. “Do you know who I am?”

Myrcella blinked for a few times before speaking. “I remember you… You are one of the Sand Snakes. Meria Sand.”

“No. That name was a lie, though I bore it proudly for seventeen years. The truth is, I am the firstborn of Elia Martell.”

“You are Rhaenys Targaryen, Prince Rhaegar’s daughter…”

“True, I am also Rhaegar’s daughter… But traitors and oathbreakers have no name, or power in Dorne, Myrcella. Soon, I shall be Rhaenys Martell.”

“What is going to happen to me? Rosamund? Ser Arys? Septa Eglantine?”

“Ser Arys is gone. He must have fled Dorne by now, but my men are still looking for him. The rest of your attendants are at Ghaston Grey.”

“But they are innocent! I told Prince Doran, they—“

“Someone must have helped the man who murdered Trystane. Someone who knows the Water Gardens well enough. Otherwise, an intruder would have never been able to get past the guards. You and Rosamund are just children, Myrcella, but your attendants aren’t as innocent as you think they are. As for you… Your mother, or grandfather wouldn’t hesitate to take a child’s head, but my uncles taught me to be better than our enemies. I can’t betray my family’s legacy if I want to avenge them.”

“Please, just let us go home.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I loved Trystane!” she cried. “And he loved me! We were going to get married, I never wanted him to get hurt! I begged that man to stop, but, but…”

“Yes, he loved you. And that love got him killed… You are not the first pretty girl who took someone from me.”

“We are your prisoners…”

“Prisoners? Myrcella, my mother was raped and tortured to death on your grandfather’s orders! This land is full of men who want you to share the same fate with her.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I am keeping you safe, you silly girl! I want you to see how fortunate you actually are. Prince Doran was a great man, but I think he made a terrible mistake by sheltering both you and Trystane from the ugly truth. I won’t make that mistake… Hotah, take them back to their chambers.”

The Lannister army would come for her, and Ser Jaime himself would be commanding that army, no doubt. If he had to make a choice between Cersei and his children, who would he choose? Myrcella had been reduced from an honorable guest to a hostage because of her mother’s reckless actions. If Rhaenys could make Ser Jaime see how dangerous Cersei actually was to her children, if she gave him a chance to live in peace with his son and daughter in Essos, could she turn him against his sister? A chance Daenerys would never give him if she came to Westeros. Ser Jaime was a Lannister. A Lannister who had somehow failed to protect her mother, but the Lannister who had also killed the Mad King...

“Rhaenys, there is something I must tell you,” Ellaria snapped her out of these thoughts.

_Here we go_. “Yes, Ellaria?”

“I don’t want my daughters to be a part of your war.”

“Mama!” Elia cried. “What are you talking about?”

“Hush, child,” Ellaria scolded her.

“Let your mother speak, Elia,” Rhaenys said.

“You see how Elia and Obella worship you all,” Ellaria said, looking at Rhaenys, Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene. “As Dorea and Loreza worship them. Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia, now you want vengeance for him. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Where does it end?”

“It ends with me,” Rhaenys said firmly. “I give you word.”

“It has certainly started with you, Rhaenys, but I don’t think it is going to end with you.”

“Wait… Do you blame her for this?” Gerold asked angrily. “Have you lost your mind, woman?”

Rhaenys put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “Gerold, wait. I want to hear what she has to say.”

“You could have stopped Oberyn. You were the only one you could, in fact. If you had told him that you chose peace over revenge, he would have listened to you. But no, you never stopped talking about how you were going to kill the Mountain yourself. Oberyn would never gamble with your life. He would never let you anywhere near that monster. You were too precious to him, even more precious than his own daughters…”

“Mama!” Elia cried again. “Shut up!”

Ellaria ignored her, and went on. “And you weren’t even worthy of that love. Oberyn was never good enough for you, was he? You would trade his love for Rhaegar’s if you could, without hesitation. Do you know how much it broke his heart, to know that he was never good enough for you? You might be angry with me right now, but you will understand, once you hold your first child in your arms.”

The words went through her like a fiery blade. Ellaria was right. Rhaenys could have stopped Oberyn. And if the Voice were still with her, he would say she would trade _anything_ for Rhaegar’s love. But as usual, the Voice would be wrong. Rhaenys had agreed to sacrifice Aegon to be able to avenge Oberyn. She would never do the same for Rhaegar.

“I can’t bring Oberyn back. So, what exactly do you want from me, Ellaria?” Rhaenys asked wearily.

“I want you to keep my daughters safe. They won’t be safe here.”

“You are right. Take them to Hellholt, then. They will be safer in the middle of the desert.”

Rhaenys had been hoping to find out what the Ullers had been doing with a Lightbringer with Ellaria’s help, but apparently that was no longer an option.

Obella and Loreza were now crying. They didn’t want to go, but Ellaria didn’t care. She took her daughters and stormed out of the throne room.

“You should have her tongue cut out for that!” Obara said after she was gone.

“I wouldn’t be sitting here if I thought I couldn’t handle a few harsh words.”

“You have gone soft, Rhaenys,” the eldest Sand Snake spat. “First, you spare the Lannister girl, now you let Ellaria get away with this…”

“I am trying to protect you all.”

“How exactly are you going to protect us all? You sent Ellaria and her daughters to Hellholt. What are you going to do with us? Lock us up in the Spear Tower, like Doran did?”

Rhaenys thought for a moment. She wanted to keep the Sand Snakes safe. They were Oberyn’s daughters, she had to protect them. Like Oberyn had protected her and her brother. Rhaenys now understood how difficult she had made Oberyn’s life with her reckless actions. Oberyn had wanted to protect her, but she had refused to be protected. Now the Sand Snakes were doing the same. She had to give them a mission. An important mission, but also a rather safe one…

“No. Of course not. You have every right to avenge your father. We are fighting a war, and we need a larger army. I want you three to travel to Norvos and speak with Lady Mellario. Nym, you can be really convincing when you want to be. Promise Lady Mellario vengeance for her son. Obara, I trust you to protect your sisters. And Tyene… Try not to poison Lady Mellario if she refuses to help. She is still a part of this family, understood? I also want you to take Areo Hotah with you.”

Obara, Nym, and Tyene were beaming with hope as they left the throne room. _Areo will keep them safe_ , Rhaenys told herself. Rhaenys had given them something important to do, that would help them feel better.

“Rhaenys?” Gerold asked once they were alone.

“Yes?” Rhaenys rose from her seat, crossed to an open window, and started watching the shadow city below.

“The Sand Snakes might just be children playing at war, but they are right about something. You are going soft.”

He pulled her towards himself with one hand, and gently touched the scars on her face with the other. “ _This_ didn’t happen because you weren’t a noble fool. Oberyn didn’t die because you weren’t a noble fool. No one will punish you for not being a noble fool.”

“I am not going soft, Gerold,” she said firmly, then returned to her solar. She had to write to Aegon.

…

Rhaenys wasn’t sure what sort of reply she was going to get from Aegon. Would he be willing to renounce the Targaryen name and become his sister’s bannerman? Or would he feel betrayed? Unlike the letter—which was full of apologies and explanations—she had sent to Aegon, his reply was very brief:

_“Thank you for setting me free, sister.”_

She released a deep breath of relief, hoping the Golden Company wouldn’t give him much trouble. They thought Aegon was going to be king, after all. But it was home they had wanted, and the stormlands were their home now. Aegon had kept his promise.

Gerold took the parchment from her hands, and smiled after reading it. “See? I told you Aegon would be grateful to you for this.”

“I am so sorry, love,” she whispered as she pressed her body against his. “We haven’t made love properly since we returned to Dorne.”

“Well, I have to respect your grief, right?”

“It is my duty to keep you happy.”

“What about _my_ duties?”

She had thought she was never going to enjoy being touched again after what had happened in Meereen, but Gerold had proven her wrong. And now that she was pregnant, he didn’t just make love to her, he almost worshiped her maimed body.

She was lucky to have a husband like this. Luckier than her own poor mother. She knew that Gerold sometimes saw her as a trophy, but she didn’t care. She was willing to be a trophy if this was what he needed. He deserved to be rewarded. He deserved to be rewarded with something much more precious than a hideous princess…

“I will speak with the Daynes of Starfall,”

“About what?”

“About Dawn… You deserve to wield it.”

He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“I know, I might be the Ruling Princess of Dorne now, but Dawn is still not mine to give. I think I can convince them, though. And please, Gerold, don’t make this more difficult for me than it already is. Apologize to them.”

“For what, exactly? Not being a coward?”

“For calling Allyria a whore just because she was betrothed to Lord Beric, for instance. That would be a good start.”

“It is hardly the worst thing I have said to them,” he scoffed.

Rhaenys frowned. “Do you want to be the Sword of the Morning or not?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then let me help you.”

Someone started pounding on the door. “Princess!”

It was Hotah. Rhaenys went to open the door. “What is wrong?”

“Myrcella and Rosamund have escaped!”

“What? How?”

“Some people have seen Ser Arys Oakheart at Sunspear today…”

“Fuck!” she hissed.

“Calm down, Rhaenys,” Gerold said. “I will bring them back, I promise. You stay here. Let’s go, Hotah.”

They quickly gathered a search party and rode off into the desert. Rhaenys summoned Maester Caleotte and asked him to bring her that tonic for the nerves. She couldn’t let herself get too upset, for the sake of her unborn children…

It was past midnight when Areo Hotah finally returned to her solar. “What happened?” Rhaenys asked impatiently. “Where is Gerold?”

“Your husband is dead, Princess.”

_I can’t get too upset. I have to think of my babies. Gerold’s babies._

With Caleotte’s help, she managed to sit down in a chair. “Tell me. Tell me what happened.”

“We found them. Darkstar said Ser Arys was his to kill, and ordered us to stay back. They fought, and…”

“And he lost.”

“He fought well, Princess. And I took Ser Arys’ head myself afterwards.”

“What about Myrcella and Rosamund?”

“Rosamund Lannister is unharmed, but Myrcella…”

“Yes?”

“She was accidentally shot in the neck by one of the crossbowmen during the chase.”

“Is she dead, too?”

“No, she is alive. But death might be more merciful for the poor girl.”

“I need to see her.”

They took her to Myrcella’s chambers. The girl still had a crossbow bolt stuck in her neck. She couldn’t speak. She was only making inhuman noises while crying. And Rosamund was terrified, naturally. She was shaking with sobs.

“Can she be saved?” Rhaenys asked Maester Caleotte and Maester Myles.

Both men shook their heads.

Rhaenys turned to Rosamund. “You are the only family Myrcella has right now. What do you say?”

When she spoke, her voice sounded much braver than Rhaenys had expected. “She is in too much pain…”

“She is. Do you want us to end her suffering?”

She nodded.

“Princess,” Caleotte whispered. “I don’t think the poor child is able to swallow anything.”

“Then we won’t kill her with poison, Caleotte… Bring me my sword.”

“Princess,” Hotah said. “You don’t have to do it yourself.”

“No, Hotah. It has to be me.”

_Lion blood_ , she thought. It was her duty to protect Myrcella, and she had failed. Letting someone else do the deed wasn’t going to change that. And, she was actually glad that the first part of the prophecy was about to be fulfilled. Soon, she and Aegon would be reunited with their family. A guard brought her Dragonspawn. She unsheathed it, and looked at Rosamund again.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Will it be quick?”

“It will. But you don’t have to see it.”

But instead of looking away, the girl took Myrcella’s hand.

Rhaenys now understood why she could never be as ruthless as her enemies. She could only pretend like she was. Killing an innocent child, even if she was a Lannister, was much harder than she had thought. In the end, Aegon was right. She was trying too hard to be Rhaegar’s Visenya, but it was only a shell.

“Please forgive me if you can,” Rhaenys said, stroking Myrcella’s golden hair, before piercing her heart with Dragonspawn. Rhaenys had blamed her for Trystane’s death. She had blamed her for her beauty. But it wasn’t her choice to be beautiful, just like it wasn’t Rhaenys’ choice to be ugly.

“I am ready to see my husband,” she said dryly after it was done.

They had taken Gerold’s body to the sept. Arys Oakheart had slit his throat open. What were his last thoughts, she wondered as she looked at him. Was he thinking of Rhaenys and his unborn children? Was he thinking of Dawn? His father? Or something else entirely? His eyes were closed, but a septon was probably painting two funeral stones for him right now. The funeral was to be held in the morning.

“We don’t want to go to Norvos,” Tyene said. Only then, Rhaenys realized Obara, Nym, and Tyene had followed her into the sept. “We don’t want to leave you alone.”

“No,” Rhaenys said firmly. “We still have a war to fight. And we need Lady Mellario’s help.”

_Fool_ , she thought as she took his cold, dead hand and placed it on her belly. _I wanted these children for you, not for myself. I knew I was going to die, so I wanted to leave something behind for you. Who is going to raise them now? Soon, we will be together again. I have already had the lion blood._

Was it too cruel to give birth to these babies, knowing that they would grow up as orphans? Should she put an end to their suffering before they were even born? But how could she kill them? She had promised him that she would never kill his seed again.

_They won’t suffer_ , she told herself at last. _They will have Dorne. And they will have each other._


	20. The Red Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe I have less than 10 chapters left to post! I'm a bit sad, actually. I'd like to thank everyone for their support. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'm on Tumblr now. I honestly don't use Tumblr much, but AO3 doesn't have a PM feature, and I have disabled the guest reviews for this story, so I thought it would be nice to have an account in case someone might have something to tell me. You can find the link on my profile page.

Now that Myrcella was dead, Rhaenys truly feared what Cersei might do to her unborn children. Rhaenys was the Ruling Princess of Dorne now, which meant that she couldn’t apologize for the death of a Lannister, even if it was an accident. So, she sent Myrcella’s body to King’s Landing wrapped in a Martell cloak instead. Rosamund would still be a hostage, but she was being provided with every comfort. The poor girl had suffered enough, there was no reason to torment her. The others would remain at Ghaston Grey. They weren’t children, and any of them could have helped the cutthroat who had murdered Trystane. There was no way to be sure. She slept with a dagger under her pillow, had four guards at her door day and night, and even a food taster to make sure she wouldn’t be poisoned. Rhaenys didn’t want to turn into the Mad King, but she didn’t want to go soft either, especially after Gerold’s death.

Caleotte suggested that she would be more comfortable in the Water Gardens, but she remained at Sunspear, for it was still her duty to rule Dorne. She was lonely, though. Obara, Nym, and Tyene had gone to Norvos. The loneliness was so unbearable that she was grateful to the even the most boring of her duties for keeping her busy. Aegon wanted to be with her, but he couldn’t. He was the Prince of Storm’s End now, and while the Tyrells probably didn’t give a shit about Storm’s End anymore, for Margaery and her brother were still imprisoned by the Faith, but the Lannisters could send someone else to take Storm’s End. Aegon had to be ready.

Her days of loneliness came to an end when Sarella returned home. And she hadn’t been happy to hear that Doran and Trystane had died because her elder sisters had been trying to ignite a war. She wasn’t very happy about having to leave the Citadel either, but at least she understood why Rhaenys wanted her back. She wasn’t safe in Oldtown anymore. She had learned many things about the Night King and his army during her time as a novice in disguise, at least. One of them was the fact that dragonglass was something that could be used to kill them permanently, and there was a mountain of it on Dragonstone. Rhaenys decided to send a hundred miners to Dragonstone, and told Aegon to gather the best blacksmiths he could find in the stormlands. The dragonglass they mined would be sent to Storm’s End and turned into weapons there.

Moons passed, and her belly became impossible to hide. Now the smallfolk knew why she still hadn’t called the banners, but they weren’t complaining. People always loved to hear that they were going to have a new heir.

She still hadn’t heard from Lady Mellario, though. Obara, Nym, and Tyene hadn’t returned from Norvos yet. Rhaenys knew Areo would protect them with his life, so she tried not to worry about them too much.

…

Garin’s mother placed her hands on Rhaenys’ swollen belly as Rhaenys lay in the bed. Garin had sent his mother—the best midwife in the realm, he always said—to examine Rhaenys.

“Your children are strong,” the elderly woman smiled, feeling the kicks. “Like you.”

“And my husband,” she added. No one else mourned Ser Gerold Dayne of High Hermitage, but Rhaenys didn’t want him to be forgotten so easily.

Garin’s mother shot her a pitiful look after examining her teats. “Do you have a wet nurse here? If not, I can send you one of our own.”

“Aye, I really need a wet nurse.”

She then helped Rhaenys get dressed, and promised to be back before the birth. When she opened the door to leave, a guard entered the room. “Forgive me, Princess,” bowed.

“Yes?” she asked, trying to sit up in the bed. Even such a simple thing was difficult for a woman when she was heavy with twins.

“You have a visitor.”

“A visitor? Who?”

“A red priestess from Asshai. She says her name is Melisandre.”

_Melisandre of Asshai_. She had never heard of that name before. Normally, she wouldn’t let a stranger into her apartments, but she didn’t want to offend the Lord of Light by refusing to speak with a red priestess.

“Let her come.”

A beautiful, slender woman with long, dark red hair was soon standing before her. She was dressed just like the other red priestesses Rhaenys had seen in Volantis.

“Princess Rhaenys,” the priestess bowed to Rhaenys in a humble, but solemn manner. “Thank you for receiving me.”

“Well, you have come all this way from Asshai to see me… It must be for a good reason.”

“Actually, I have been in Westeros for several years now.”

Rhaenys frowned. “Wait… You are the red priestess who served Stannis.”

“I only serve the Lord of Light, Princess.”

“My brother and I were once summoned to the Red Temple of Volantis by the High Priestess herself. It didn’t end well for us, though. Even Kinvara admitted that she had made a mistake. I am not Stannis Baratheon, Melisandre of Asshai. I don’t take orders from red priests or priestesses. You are only welcome here because I don’t wish to disrespect the Lord of Light.”

“Do you worship the Lord of Light?” Melisandre gasped. Rhaenys couldn’t tell if she was pleased, or taken aback.

“I fear him,” she admitted. “Is that good enough?”

“It is a good start.”

“You still haven’t told me why you are here.”

“The Long Night is almost upon us, Princess. But you already know that. I wish to help you.”

“How?”

“You cannot defeat the Great Other on your own.”

“I know. Once I destroy the Lannisters, I will travel to the Wall and speak with the Lord Commander myself. Jon Snow was his name, right? Lord Stark’s son?”

Melisandre shook her head. “No, Princess. Jon Snow is no longer the Lord Commander. His own men betrayed him.”

“Why?” she asked. “Why did the Night’s Watch betray the Lord Commander?”

“Because he allowed the wildlings pass through the Wall, to protect them from the Night King and his army.”

“A wise decision,” she said. “Every man who remains in the north of the Wall means another soldier for the army of the dead… But I suppose the others didn’t see it that way, did they? What a shame… I hate wasting my time with narrow-minded people.”

Melisandre smiled. “Jon Snow is not dead, Princess. The Lord let me brought him back.”

“What? Are you a necromancer?”

She grimaced. “A necromancer? Never! I don’t serve the darkness. What happened to Jon Snow was only the Lord’s will. He has an important role to play in the Great War.”

“So, where is he now? If he needs a sanctuary, he is always welcome in Dorne.”

“That is very generous of you, Princess,” she laughed. “But no. He and Lady Sansa took Winterfell back from the Boltons. He is now the King in the North.”

Rhaenys grinned. She hadn’t forgotten about her debt to Lord Stark. “This is good to hear. What about the other Stark children, though?”

“Rickon Stark is, unfortunately, dead. Killed by Ramsay Bolton. The others are still missing. You seem really protective of House Stark, considering—“

“Considering what Lyanna Stark did? Make no mistake, my lady, I still think Lyanna Stark was a whore. But I don’t blame the other Starks for her sins anymore. Eddard Stark demanded justice for my mother, and therefore, I owe him a debt, that’s all.”

“I see.”

“Why didn’t you stay in the North to help Jon Snow, though? Or, did he send you to me?”

“No. No, Princess. I have been exiled from the North.”

“Why?”

“Because of the mistakes I made.” Melisandre sighed, and looked around the room. Her eyes lingered on Dragonspawn, which was lying on a desk, as if she knew exactly what it was.

“Your sword…”

“What of it?” Rhaenys asked casually.

A vague smile played about her lips. “That sword… Jon Snow is the Prince That Was Promised. It should be given to him.”

_No, he is not_ , she thought. But this woman had been wrong before. She had thought Stannis was the Prince That Was Promised. Now she was wrong again.

“Do you know what that sword does?”

“What it _does_? Do you mean…”

Rhaenys was determined to keep Dragonspawn’s secret from everyone, but this woman was talking about giving it to Jon Snow. She needed to know. “It is the Lightbringer, yes. I haven’t made the sacrifice yet. But it answers to me. I don’t know why you think this Jon Snow is the Prince That Was Promised, but my sword won’t serve him.”

Her eyes widened. “Impossible!”

“I know. Kinvara says time is an illusion, and the sword can see through that illusion.”

“Impossible,” she repeated. “The spell wasn’t completed.”

“How do you even know? Have you seen it in a vision?”

“No. I don’t need flames or visions to recognize this sword. I have seen it before, with my own eyes.”

“Where?”

“This is not my first time in Dorne,” she sighed, staring out of the window, as if she was reminiscing.

“Tell me,” Rhaenys demanded. “Tell me what the fuck the Ullers were doing with a Lightbringer.”

“When Queen Rhaenys fell at Hellholt,” she began, “the Lord wanted me to go there and turn her sword into the new Lightbringer. The circumstances were finally ripe to forge one. There was a Valyrian steel sword, a beloved dragonlord to be sacrificed, and a hero who loved her dearly.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“You can’t sacrifice an enemy, or a stranger. Sacrifice is never meant to be easy.”

“I know that much. But what do you mean by _a beloved dragonlord_?”

“ _Fire and blood_. The words of House Targaryen also explains the very essence of blood magic. For fire, you need to sacrifice blood. For dragon fire, you need to sacrifice dragon blood. Your sacrifice must be your beloved, but he, or she must also have dragon blood. That is why forging a Lightbringer is such a difficult rite.”

“Kinvara must have forgotten to tell me about the dragonlord part,” she muttered angrily. “Go on.”

“Everyone thought Queen Rhaenys was being tortured at Hellholt, but she wasn’t. She was hiding. From her own family. She had a secret lover at Hellholt. Lord Uller’s bastard son. He was also a great warrior. When I told Lord Uller about the legendary weapon his son could wield, he agreed to force him to sacrifice Queen Rhaenys. But his son… No, the lad didn’t want to use his lover’s blood to forge such a dangerous weapon. While I was busy speaking the ancient words, he let Rhaenys kill herself with poison instead. She should have been killed by her lover, and with the Lightbringer.”

“But that was ages ago. How could you… How old are you?” The realization sent a chill down Rhaenys’ spine. This woman’s appearance was a glamor.

“Very old,” the priestess said with a wry smile.

“So, Queen Rhaenys killed herself, and your plans were ruined. What did you do?”

“I asked the Lord to show me what to do.”

“And?”

“The flames showed me a prophecy. The Ullers had to make an armor from the fallen dragon’s hide, and then wait until the golden lioness came to Dorne. Only then, they would be able to find a worthy hero for the sword. And if they didn’t do that, their house would be doomed. The prophecy would pass one generation to the next, until it was fulfilled. It was their greatest secret.”

“So, that was why Ser Ulywk forfeited the sword and the armor in that tourney… Myrcella was in Dorne, and they realized it was time to fulfill the prophecy.”

“Exactly.”

“But you knew where the Lightbringer was all along. Why didn’t you bring Stannis to Dorne, if you believed he was the Prince That Was Promised?”

The priestess remained silent, as if she was waiting for another realization to dawn on Rhaenys.

And it did.

“You never thought Stannis was the Prince That Was Promised, did you? You just needed him to threaten King’s Landing, so that the Lannisters would send Myrcella to a safer place… To Dorne. And the Ullers would know that the time had come.”

“It was the Lord's command, but I always knew he wasn't the Prince That Was Promised,” she admitted. “When the Lord brought Jon Snow back from the dead, I thought I had made another mistake at Hellholt. That the Ullers would never be able to find a worthy hero in Dorne, because the Prince That Was Promised was in the North. But now, you say you can command the Lightbringer… The Lord must have brought Jon Snow back for a reason, though. He still has a part to play.”

“We are all R’hllor’s playthings, aren’t we?”

“Playthings? We are servants, Princess. _Valar Dohaeris_. All men must serve.”

…

Rhaenys finally agreed to go to the Water Gardens a few days before the birth. The Red Woman was at Sunspear, and while Rhaenys didn’t want to offend R’hllor, she didn’t want that witch anywhere near her children. Aegon always said those who practiced blood magic couldn’t resist the temptation of innocent blood.

Childbirth was painful. Everyone knew that much. But Rhaenys hadn’t thought she would spend half a day screaming in pain before her children safely came into this world.

Aegon had been right. She had twins. The midwife had drawn the girl forth first. And then, the boy… Rhaenys had thought she would be filled with joy, but she wasn’t. In fact, she had never felt so hollow before in her whole life. She was a terrible mother, obviously…

“Princess?” Caleotte snapped Rhaenys out of these thoughts. “Would you like to hold them?”

“No,” she said coldly. “They must be fed, give them to the wet nurse.”

Everyone that had gathered around her bed was swapping looks now. Rhaeny lowered her head in shame.

“Leave us,” Sarella said. Slowly, the midwives, the servants, Maester Myles and Maester Caloette left. Rhaenys, Sarella, the wet nurse, and the twins were the only ones in the nursery now. Rhaenys watched the wet nurse with envy as she fed the babes. Even a stranger seemed to have more affection for them.

In the meantime, Sarella helped her clean up and get dressed. Rhaenys had gained some weight in the past nine moons, but she still felt much lighter now. Tomorrow, she was going to start training again. The thought of holding a sword seemed to her more important than the thought of holding her babies, and she felt even more ashamed. She wished her own mother were here. Only she could teach her how to be a proper mother. But she was gone. She didn’t even have a resting place anymore. Cersei had destroyed the Sept of Baelor.

After feeding the twins, the wet nurse placed them in the crib, and she, too, quietly walked out of the nursery.

“What is wrong, Rhaenys?” Sarella softly asked at last.

“I don’t love them. I—I am trying, but… I only see them as my heirs, not my children.”

“Nonsense! I know how much you love your brother. How much you love me and my sisters. I know how much you loved Arianne, Quentyn, and Trystane. Now you say you don’t love your own babies? I don’t believe that.”

“Then what is wrong with me?”

“Rhaenys, you refused to mourn Uncle Doran to keep them safe in your womb. You refused to mourn your husband. Give yourself some time.”

“You may be right…”

For nine moons, she had lived in fear, recalling the stories of other pregnant women who gave birth to deformed, stillborn creatures because they went into a deep grief, or a black fury. It was this fear that hadn’t allowed her to feel anything. But now, she wasn’t able to feel anything for her children either, no matter how hard she tried.

“You haven’t even looked at them. Come on,” Sarella encouraged her.

She crossed to the crib, and looked at the babes who were inside her womb only half an hour ago. They both had their mother’s olive skin, and a wisp of black hair on their tiny heads. It was impossible to tell which one was the girl and which one was the boy when they were swaddled, but Rhaenys was still able to tell them apart somehow. She gently scooped the girl into her arms. When she did, the babe opened her dark purple eyes. The twins had their father’s eyes. But even seeing Gerold’s eyes didn’t make her feel anything.

“Do you have any names in mind?” Sarella asked.

Of course she did. She had decided what to name them a long time ago. “The girl shall be Ashara. Aegon and I couldn’t have survived the Sack without Lady Ashara’s help. I couldn’t have met Gerold. Her name must be honored.”

She put Ashara back in the crib, and took the boy. “And he shall be Lewyn, for the prince we lost on the Trident.”

Sarella smiled. “I like their names.”

Rhaenys put Lewyn back into the crib, too, and walked out of the nursery. She decided not to hold them in her arms again, or she might start loving them. Mayhaps this was for the best. Rhaenys was going to sacrifice the one she loved most. The twins might not have the dragon’s name, but they still had the dragon’s blood in their veins. They had to be protected from their own mother’s cursed love.


	21. The Kraken Unleashed

Daenerys was coming.

And the Dothraki were coming with her. She also had the support of the Greyjoy siblings and House Tyrell. Aegon wasn’t surprised. The Ironborn were no less savage than the Dothraki, and while Lady Olenna was desperate for vengeance after the death of her family, the Reach and Dorne were old enemies. She would rather declare for the queen of the barbarians than become allies with the Dornishmen.

He was surprised to hear that Tyrion Lannister was now the Hand of the Queen, though. And after all the trouble he had been through to save Elia Martell’s children, even Lord Varys was now serving Daenerys. He had apparently decided to serve her long before Aegon renounced his claim on the Iron Throne. Aegon had never wanted to be king, still he couldn’t help but feel insulted. Did people really consider him such an incapable ruler that they had chosen a girl who was following the Mad King’s footsteps instead?

“Mayhaps the Spider wanted someone he could manipulate easily?” Daemon suggested.

Aegon shook his head. “Daenerys isn’t so easy to manipulate either.”

Neither of them spoke for a while. They were both leaning over the battlements, watching the boat that had brought more dragonglass to Storm’s End disappearing into the night. It was returning to Dragonstone, which would soon become Daenerys’ base of operations. He had seen her, and her advisors in another dream, gathered around the Painted Table. All he could see was fragments, of course, there was no way to know what exactly they were planning. He wondered what she would do when she saw the Dornishmen mining dragonglass on the island.

“My prince,” Daemon bowed and walked away, leaving Aegon to his brooding. He must have realized that Aegon needed some solitude.

He was still grateful for Daemon’s company, though, for he felt so trapped in this strange place. He wanted to return to Dorne. He wanted to see his sister, he wanted to meet his niece and nephew. Ashara and Lewyn. But now, he had a castle to rule, and traveling was dangerous.

All of a sudden, he thought he had heard a shriek, and his heart jumped. _It must have been an animal_ , he then reminded himself. Or it was just the sound of the waves, crashing on the rocks at the base of the castle. Surely Daenerys wouldn’t let Viserion and Rhaegal return to Aegon and Rhaenys. Even if she did, they wouldn’t forgive the siblings for leaving them chained up beneath the Great Pyramid.

But then, he heard another shriek, and unless his eyes were deceiving him, a shadow was hurtling across the sky towards the battlements. A huge, dark, winged shadow.

“Aegon!” Daemon must have seen it as well, for he was now hurrying back towards Aegon.

“Fear not, that’s Viserion.”

“Forgive me, but… Are you sure?”

He smiled. “Of course I am.”

Viserion was now flying in circles above the two men. Daemon was still staring at him warily.

“Viserion!” Aegon called out.

Slowly, the cream-and-gold dragon perched on the battlements, and turned his head to Aegon, his golden eyes fixated on his, as if he was waiting for an explanation. It was a strange feeling, to be pinned down like this, by a dragon’s gaze.

“Hello, Viserion.”

Viserion opened his mouth—which was now large enough to swallow a man whole—and roared with all his might.

“Hush now,” he whispered, and extended one arm to touch him.

Viserion closed his mouth, and let Aegon touch his snout, but he was still growling aggressively.

“I am sorry. I am truly sorry that I left you behind, Viserion. But they were going to kill my sister. We had to go.”

“I missed you,” he went on, gently rubbing his nose. “I wanted to come back for you. But I couldn’t. You know I couldn’t return to Meereen.”

Aegon had thought he would have wasted away in captivity by now. But, gods… He had become huge. And Viserion had always been smaller than his brothers. Aegon didn’t even want to think how big Drogon must have become.

He might be the smallest of the three, but he was still large enough to ride.

“You look so beautiful. Where is your brother? Where is Rhaegal? Is he in Dorne, with my sister? Shall we go see them?”

He looked at Daemon, who now seemed at a loss for words. “I leave you in charge until I come back.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. For a fortnight, perhaps.”

Daemon could surely run Storm’s End for a fortnight.

Viserion must have forgiven him now, for he let Aegon climb on his back.

“FLY!”

Aegon wasn’t sure if Viserion would obey. The dragonlords of Valyria had magic horns and whips to control their dragons, he knew that much. But how exactly they were doing it, no one remembered. The dragonlords had kept their secrets well. Too well, in fact, for those secrets had eventually been lost even to the Targaryens.

But it worked. Viserion spread his wings, and took off. Aegon’s hands clutched at his scales tightly. With each flap of those milky wings, they rose higher and higher. With each flap, it became more real. For the first time in centuries, a dragon and his rider were roaming the Westerosi skies once again. Aegon threw his head back, and closed his eyes. He could go wherever he wanted right now. He could fly all the way to the edge of the world if he wished. Nothing could stop him. But first, Rhaenys…

…

Viserion took him to the Water Gardens. Although it was past midnight, almost everyone was awake, which made Aegon think that Rhaegal must have made quite an appearance earlier tonight.

After Aegon dismounted, it was Sarella who greeted him with a warm hug. “I missed you so much,” she said.

“I missed you too, Sarella,” he said, looking around. Viserion had landed in the middle of the gardens that were bathed in silvery moonlight. This was where Vorian Sand had spent most of his days as a boy, playing with his sisters and his friends. How happy they used to be back then…

“So, how was the Citadel?”

“It was a disappointment.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because the maesters are a bunch of fools! Even the archmaesters… They seemed to believe me when I told them about the Night King, but they refused to do anything! Can you believe it? Sam and I had to steal a key to the restricted section of the library.”

“Sam?”

“Samwell Tarly. He is a man of the Night’s Watch, actually, but the Lord Commander sent him to the Citadel so that he could be a maester.”

“I see… Where is Rhaenys?”

“She said she needed to go somewhere when her dragon came. I thought she would be with you.”

“I didn’t see her on my way here.”

“Well, let’s go inside. Don’t you want to meet Ashara and Lewyn?”

“Of course I do.”

He followed Sarella into the palace, and to the nursery. Slowly, she opened the door, and they entered on their tiptoes. Ashara and Lewyn were asleep in a wooden crib. The moment he lay eyes on his own niece and nephew, he understood how ungrateful he had been to Doran, and even to Oberyn. He should have loved them more. He had been a fool to look elsewhere for a father. He understood it now, because he was ready to raise these children as if they were his own, and his heart would be broken if he realized he would never be good enough for them.

For nearly half an hour, Aegon and Sarella watched the twins in silence.

“Let’s go,” Sarella then whispered, and they went out of the nursery, again, on their tiptoes.

She let out of a troubled sigh after closing the door behind her.

“What is wrong?”

“It is Rhaenys… She is different, Aegon.”

“How?”

“She barely comes to see the twins. She is always at Sunspear, too busy training, or ruling… And when she comes here, she refuses to touch them. Her own children!”

“Wait… Did she return to Sunspear after giving birth?” he asked in disbelief.

She nodded. “She returned the next morning, and has come here only twice since then. Yesterday, I begged her to spend at least one day with the twins, and brought her to the Water Gardens with me, but then Rhaegal came, and now she is gone again.”

Now it was Aegon’s turn to let out a troubled sigh.

“You look different, too,” she added.

“Well, I don’t dye my hair anymore.”

“I am not talking about your hair. You look… less peaceful. And more intimidating.”

“I need to find my sister,” he said evasively.

“I am sure she is fine, Aegon. Please, get some rest. You remember where your rooms are, right?” she teased.

Aegon ruffled her short, curly hair. “Of course I remember!”

“Good night, then,” she said, and put a kiss on his cheek.

“Good night, Sarella.”

Before setting off to his rooms, he took one last look at the gardens below. Viserion had taken off.

…

When he woke up the next morning, Aegon found Rhaenys sitting in a chair by his bed.

“Rhaenys? Where have you been?”

“I went to Dragonstone and spoke with the miners.”

“Daenerys is coming,” he said coldly. “Olenna Tyrell has already declared for her. We have to destroy her before she gains more supporters.”

“Aegon!” she scolded him. “I only agreed to rule Dorne to make sure you wouldn’t become a kinslayer. Now you say you are going to kill Daenerys anyway.”

“Why are you protecting her?” he asked, frustrated.

“I am not protecting _her_. It is the dragons… Can’t you feel it? They don’t want us to fight their mother.”

Aegon had never thought about it before, but what she said made sense. Still, was his sister going to bow to that whore just because this was what Rhaegal and Viserion wanted? “What are you going to do, then? Bend the knee?”

“Of course not. But we have to find a way to make peace. Daenerys needs to understand why we can’t be a part of the Seven Kingdoms anymore. She needs to see what happens to us every time we try to join the fold.”

“Daenerys is too arrogant to see anything, sister. She is bringing forty thousand Dothraki to Westeros!  How do you think that will end?”

“Not well,” she agreed.

“We have to be ready to protect ourselves.”

“Brother, we haven’t seen each other for almost a year… Is Daenerys what you really want to talk about right now?”

“Of course not.”

He pulled Rhaenys into a hug, and held her in his arms until her presence soothed the dark, ancient force flowing in his veins. Yes, they hadn’t seen each other in a year. And in that year, Rhaenys had become a ruler, a widow, and a mother. Still, she was the Rhaenys he remembered. He recalled what Sarella had told him about her last night, and found it hard to believe. He had no doubt that Rhaenys was trying to protect her children from being the sacrifice for the Lightbringer, but how could she stop herself from loving them? Was such a thing even possible?

“Rhaenys…”

“Yes?”

“Sarella told me something last night.”

Rhaenys broke free from his embrace, rose to her feet, and turned her back to him. “About what a horrible mother I am?” she asked coldly.

“Sister! We both know that it is not true. You are trying to protect them. My question is, how can you do it? How can you control your emotions?”

“I don’t have to control my emotions. I simply don’t love them. Of course I want them to be safe, to be happy, and I would give my life for them, but that’s duty, not love. I never wanted to be a mother. I never wanted children for myself. That was something I had wanted for Gerold, I had wanted to give him a family before I died, but I had never thought I would outlive him. I was foolish. If I could _control_ my emotions, I would stop loving you first.”

“Rhaenys, if you stopped loving me, I would die anyway.”

Rhaenys didn’t say anything. Aegon got out of the bed and got dressed. Then, they went down to the gardens to break their fast. Rhaenys had made sure that Aegon’s favorite Dornish dishes were served.

The Water Gardens were as serene as ever. Winter had come, but apparently it had no power in Dorne yet. Aegon loosened a few buttons of his shirt. After breaking his fast, he and Rhaenys wandered around aimlessly for a while, until they found themselves on the terrace that overlooked the gardens, where a red priestess was standing. Doran used to sit here and watch the children play down in the pools for hours. Without him, Oberyn, Trys, or the Sand Snakes, the palace felt so sad and empty. The presence of a red priestess only made it worse for Aegon.

“Who are you?” he snarled. After everything that had happened, a red priestess was the last person Aegon wanted to see in Dorne.

Melisandre bowed to him respectfully. “Melisandre of Asshai.”

“What are you doing here, Melisandre of Asshai?”

“I am not your enemy, Prince Aegon. The Long Night is upon us, and I am only here to help your sister defeat the Great Other.”

“You were told to remain at Sunspear,” Rhaenys said.

“Sarella Sand summoned me here after you left with the green dragon.”

“Well, as you can see, my sister is back.”

The priestess bowed again. “I will return to Sunspear, then.”

“Wait,” Rhaenys said. “Any news of my cousins?”

“Sadly, no. I can’t see them in the flames. It is as if they are… cloaked.”

“Cloaked? How?”

“You mean, someone is hiding them with magic?” Aegon asked.

“Possibly,” Melisandre replied, and walked out of the terrace.

“What is she doing in Dorne?” he asked Rhaenys angrily once the priestess was out of earshot. “Haven’t we suffered enough because of the red priestesses?”

“I don’t want to offend the Lord of Light.”

The name filled his heart with rage. This Lord of Light, he had managed to poison his sister’s mind, turned her into a coward. It wasn’t her fault of course, R’hllor knew how to use people’s weaknesses against them. Aegon would fight him if he could. But how could a mere mortal defy a god?

“Don’t listen to her,” he said, gently stroking Rhaenys’ hair. “You know how these red priestesses are. You know how misleading their visions can be.”

“This one is different, Aegon.”

“Why?”

“Because she is the one who enchanted Queen Rhaenys’ sword… Come, brother, let’s go to my solar. There is a story I ought to tell you.”

…

Aegon was spending most of his time with Rhaenys while waiting to hear from Lady Mellario. They were either sparring in the courtyard, or learning to ride their dragons properly. Every day, they flew for hours over the Sea of Dorne, or the desert. Sometimes, they sparred on dragonback, which was something they both needed. Fighting on dragonback was nothing like fighting on horseback, and unfortunately, there was no teacher with more experience to teach them. They had no choice but to learn it by themselves.

It had been a fortnight since he had come to Dorne—he wasn’t looking forward to returning to Storm’s End—when one morning, Manfrey Martell, the castellan, found the siblings sparring in the courtyard. He was panting, as if he had been running all the way from Sunspear to the Water Gardens, and there was a look of utter terror on his face.

Aegon and Rhaenys swapped looks. They both feared the same thing.

“You must return to the Old Palace at once,” Ser Manfrey simply said, his voice trembling.

Soon, Rhaenys, Aegon, Sarella, and Ser Manfrey were galloping to Sunspear. They all jerked to a halt when they saw the unfamiliar ship at the docks. The sails bore the sigil of House Greyjoy; a golden kraken on a black field.

“A messenger from Daenerys?” Rhaenys asked, confused.

“Daenerys?”

Rhaenys dismounted her horse and began walking towards the ship. The rest followed her. “Well, the Greyjoys have declared for her, have they not?” she asked.

“Yara and Theon Greyjoy have declared for her, Princess,” Manfrey corrected her. “This is a message from Euron Greyjoy, I am afraid.”

“Euron Greyjoy? He might be a fucking pirate, but we have no quarrel with him. Why would he—“

They all stopped. Ser Manfrey lowered his head in despair.

Sarella let out a wordless scream and fell on her knees.

Rhaenys blinked for several times, as if she was trying to make sure she wasn’t having a nightmare.

Not knowing what else to do, Aegon took Sarella into his arms. Lately, it was as if their whole lives had turned into a neverending nightmare.

Obara was impaled at the front of the ship, with her own spear, and Nym body was hanging from the prow, next to Obara’s. She had been strangled by her own whip as.

“Tyene?” Rhaenys asked.

Ser Manfrey gave her a scroll of parchment. “We found this on the ship.”

“Euron Greyjoy has taken her to Cersei. As a gift to _prove his loyalty_ ,” Rhaenys spat after reading the note.

“To the spears!” someone shouted in the distance. “What are you waiting for, Princess?”

“Vengeance for the Sand Snakes!” another man shouted, and soon, others joined him.

Aegon noticed the crowd that had gathered just outside the docks. The guards were trying to keep them away from the ship.

“Ser Manfrey,” Rhaenys said calmly. “Send a raven to Hellholt, Ellaria’s daughters deserve to be here for the funeral. And tell Maester Caleotte to call the banners. Brother, you write to Lord Connington and Ser Daemon. Tell them that the time has come. We are going to war.”

…

Rhaenys and Aegon never let go of each other’s hands during the funeral. They held a council meeting afterwards. Much to Aegon’s displeasure, Melisandre, too, had decided to attend.

“I have seen something in the flames,” she said. “Euron Greyjoy will attack Dragonstone.”

“I thought you couldn’t see Euron Greyjoy?” Aegon asked.

“He might be able to conceal his ship with cheap tricks, but not the Red Keep. Cersei Lannister ordered him to destroy Daenerys Stormborn’s armada.”

“This might be our only chance to get Euron Greyjoy, brother.”

Aegon disagreed, though. “We are not a sea people, Rhaenys. Let’s not pretend otherwise. Let’s lure the kraken out of the water instead.”

“No. Euron Greyjoy is too clever for that. If he kills, or captures his niece and nephew, he will become truly unstoppable.”

A rather impatient pounding on the door interrupted their discussion.

“Yes?” Rhaenys said.

It was Maester Caleotte, panting heavily, holding a roll of parchment in his hand. He handed it to Rhaenys. But for some reason, he seemed excited.

Rhaenys quickly broke the seal and for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, her eyes sped from left to right as she read through the note. Then, she gave it to Aegon, who read it out loud.

_Princess Rhaenys,_

_House Maegyr of Volantis and I are sending you a hundred ships, with men to sail them. Avenge my husband, and my son. Avenge the Red Wedding._

_Lady Mellario of Norvos_

Caleotte crossed to the nearest window and pointed at the ships in the distance with his finger. “Apparently Lady Mellario has been plotting with House Maegyr since the Red Wedding,” he said.

It had been so long since they had last received any good news that Aegon couldn’t believe his eyes at first. But he, too, could see the ships Caleotte was talking about. It _was_ real. They had a hundred more ships.

Rhaenys dismissed everyone then, save for Aegon and the Red Woman.

“I sent the Sand Snakes to Norvos for nothing. Lady Mellario didn’t need to be convinced at all.”

“Sister, you couldn’t have known that.”

“I should have.”

“Will she be coming with us?” Aegon asked, looking at the Red Woman.

“Euron Greyjoy is said to be a sorcerer. We might need Lady Melisandre’s powers.”

“I can handle Euron myself.” _I want to handle Euron myself._

Rhaenys took his hands. “I have no doubt you can, brother, she said softly. _Stars don’t fall for ordinary men_ , remember? But I don’t want you to practice blood magic unless you absolutely have to. It changes you.”

“It is not blood magic that has changed me, sister,” he said darkly.

Melisandre cleared her throat to get their attention. “You will win this war, Princess… With me, or without me, you will win. But you will never see Dorne again. You will never see your children again. Make sure you bid your farewells before we leave.”

With a sad smile on her face, she turned around and walked out.

“Don’t listen to her,” Aegon said oncr again. Rhaenys buried her face in his chest, and he held her as tightly as he could, as if someone was coming to take her from him.


	22. To Kill A Dead Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some readers asked for an explanation for the time jumps, so here it goes: I'm terrible at maths, which means I'm terrible at calculating time and distances. I did some research before writing this story. It appears it would take 2 years to travel from Westeros to Asshai. So, I assumed traveling to Meereen would take 1 year, give or take a few months. Indeed, the siblings only spent several months with Daenerys in Essos. The "time jumps" were just their sea journeys, and I simply skipped them because nothing interesting happened during those journeys. If this calculation is wrong, that means there is a huge plot hole in the story, I know. But there is nothing I can do about it after this point *shrugs*
> 
> Anyway, Arya is finally here! I know many people have been waiting for this, but if you find Arya's character too flat or emotionless, please don't get disappointed just yet. It was something I did on purpose. Arya is still under the influence of her Faceless Men training, she won't return to her true self until she is reunited with Jon.

“My queen!” Euron Greyjoy’s victorious voice boomed in the throne room. “Please accept this gift on behalf of all your loyal subjects on the Iron Islands. One of the infamous Sand Snakes of Dorne… Tyene Sand.”

He threw the golden-haired girl he had been dragging around by a leash at the foot of the Iron Throne. She had beautiful, deep blue eyes, and an innocent-looking face. Arya had never seen a Dornishwoman before, but weren’t they supposed to be less… pale? The poor girl was half-naked, covered in rotten vegetables, horse shit, and saliva. Euron must have paraded her around the city before bringing her to the Red Keep.

Cersei raised a hand, and the crowd who was cheering for Euron—Arya knew that they only cheered out of fear—fell silent immediately. For some reason, she didn’t seem very pleased. “It wasn’t a _snake_ who killed my daughter, Euron Greyjoy. It was a _dragon_.”

Euron shot her a malicious smirk. “Aye, so I’ve heard… The deadliest weapon the Martells have ever created. _The Dragon of Dorne_ … And do you know what’s the best way to lure a dragon into a trap? A treasure. It’s known that Rhaenys Martell’s greatest treasure in this world is her beloved family.”

“Rhaenys _Martell_?” Cersei scoffed. “Is that what she calls herself now?” She exchanged brief looks with her twin, but unlike Cersei’s, his face was inscrutable.

“You foolish whore!” Tyene cried. “Do you think Euron is loyal to you? He abducted us moons ago, he was planning to take us to the Dragon Queen, he only changed his mind when the Targaryen girl chose to side with his niece and nephew instead!”

“Is this true?” Cersei asked Euron coldly.

But Euron was still smirking. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Does it matter?”

“Where are her sisters?”

“I sent them back to Dorne.”

Cersei cocked an eyebrow.

“Not for a happy family reunion, of course.”

Tyene was now staring at the Mountain, and it didn’t escape Cersei’s notice. She looked at the  Mountain, chuckled, then returned to Tyene. “You haven’t seen him before, have you? The man who killed your father. I believe he was also the one who killed your aunt? Elia Martell... Your father made sure no one in King’s Landing would ever forget that name anytime soon. Oberyn looked beautiful that day, he really did… No one moved like him, no one had such skill with a spear. Even Ser Gregor couldn’t beat him. If only he hadn’t taunted him and left poor Ser Gregor to die, but that wasn’t your father’s way, was it? I suppose it’s not your cousin’s way either… Euron Greyjoy, you’ve proven yourself the greatest captain of the fourteen seas, and a true friend to the Crown.”

“You deserve more than a true friend.”

“You shall have what your heart desires when the war is won. When the Mad King’s daughter is dead.”

Euron laughed. “Well, that’s easy… Her armada is waiting to be destroyed at Dragonstone as we speak.”

Arya’s heart jumped. _Jon_. Jon was on Dragonstone. And he had no idea what was coming.

She was on her way to Winterfell when she had heard some people talking about how the King in the North had been seen near the White Harbor. He was heading to the South, and Arya knew what happened to the Starks in the South. She had thought Jon was going to King’s Landing at first. But shortly after her arrival, she had found out that he wasn’t in King’s Landing, but on Dragonstone with this Dragon Queen. Disguised as one of Cersei’s handmaidens, she could be anywhere, hear anything in the Red Keep. No one suspected Cersei’s carefully chosen handmaidens.

What Jon was doing on Dragonstone, Arya had no idea. But she had already come all this way to King’s Landing. She wouldn’t go to Dragonstone without killing Cersei, the Mountain, and Ilyn Payne first. She had to be quick, though. She had to kill them before Euron attacked Dragonstone, or else Jon was going to be trapped on that island.

Suddenly, helping this girl, Tyene Sand, didn’t seem like a bad idea. She was clearly a valuable hostage to Cersei. If she escaped the dungeons, all guards would be distracted, and Arya could easily kill the Queen while everyone was looking for Tyene Sand.

…

When Jaime Lannister stormed into Cersei’s chambers, Arya decided to stall, to see what the fuss was about.

“You’ve ordered the Mountain to rape that girl,” he said, fuming.

Cersei shrugged, and went to pour herself another cup of wine. “I’ve ordered the _Queensguard_ to take turns raping her.”

“Are you going to kill her, like you killed that septa?”

“I’m going to kill this one with the rest of her family. Until then, she will suffer, just like our poor Myrcella did.”

“Perhaps you need more honorable guards…”

“Not all of them were willing to rape her, but I told them that they didn’t need the sword between their legs unless they used it to serve me.”

“I can’t believe you…”

“Why? Father used rape as a punishment to teach whores their places. When he ordered Ser Gregor to rape Elia—“

When she said this, Ser Jaime looked like he wanted to murder his twin. “Princess Elia was innocent!”

“Innocent? She gave birth to the monster who murdered our daughter. Our only daughter!”

_She doesn’t even try to hide it anymore_ , Arya thought. Cersei wanted the whole world to know that she fucked her brother. The handmaidens were talking among themselves about how they found the Queen and her brother in the same bed almost every morning. None of the girls had lost her head, or even her tongue, for spreading these rumors.

“What are you going to do when I get that murderous whore, Sansa?” she went on, and Arya’s heart jumped again. She knew she wasn’t supposed to feel that way. She was supposed to be No One while wearing someone else’s face, or else the face would poison her. But she couldn’t help herself. “I’ll make that bastard brother of hers watch as Ser Gregor rapes her to death, and if you ever try to stop me, Jaime…”

It would be all over soon. Cersei would never get her hands on Sansa, or Jon. Arya just had to be patient. But Cersei’s words didn’t make it easy. She needed all her self-restraint to stop herself from cutting Cersei’s throat right now.

“I told you, it was Olenna who killed Joffrey. Not Sansa, or Tyrion.”

Arya let out a sigh of disappointment. She had really hoped that it was Sansa who had killed Joffrey…

“You, girl?” Cersei asked Arya.

“Yes, Your Grace?” she asked meekly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Cleaning your chamber pot, Your Grace.”

“Haven’t you finished cleaning it yet?”

“I have, Your Grace.” She curtsied respectfully and left the room.

_It is time_ , Arya decided. She went to the stables first and bribed a stableboy to prepare a horse for a _friend of hers_. She didn’t know much about Tyene Sand, but she seemed like a decent girl, and Arya wanted to make sure she could safely flee King’s Landing. She hoped the Mountain was still in the dungeons, that way she could kill him before freeing Tyene Sand. And once Cersei heard that she had escaped, she would send her brother to look for her. Once she was alone in her private quarters, Arya could kill her easily, and then leave for Dragonstone.

She wondered how Jon was doing, or if he had seen any of the rumored dragons. They used to read tales about the Targaryens all the time when they were children. Not the ones about those who had abducted their aunt, or burnt their grandfather alive, but the ones about the heroes: Aegon the Conqueror, Aemon the Dragonknight, Daeron the Young Dragon… But her favorite was Queen Visenya, and her Valyrian steel sword, Dark Sister.

She didn’t dream of Dark Sister anymore, though. She had her Needle. It wasn’t Valyrian steel, no, but to her, it was something far more precious. Needle was her home, her family. Robb, Bran, Rickon, her mother and father, even Sansa… And Jon.

What did this Dragon Queen want from him, anyway? What was he doing on Dragonstone?

There was also another question nagging at her mind: How, and why had Jon become the King in the North? She was delighted to know that he had avenged the Red Wedding, that he had taken Winterfell back, and kept Sansa safe. But he was his father’s son, even though he didn’t have his name. Why had he broken his vows? He hadn’t broken them even when their father was killed. When Robb was killed… Something must have happened at the Wall, and Arya was dying to know what it was.

…

The dark cells were echoing with the screams of Tyene. The place was bitterly cold, and the darkness was absolute, which actually made things easier for Arya. She could easily find her way around here without being seen. She only had to let the screams guide her to find Tyene’s cell. Someone was obviously still raping her.

Ned Stark had spent some time in one of these dreadful cells before Joffrey executed him. Arya tried not to think of his suffering. She was still wearing a face, she wasn’t supposed to feel what Arya Stark would feel about her father. Jaqen had warned her.

At last, she found the door and began picking the lock.

When he saw her, the guard stopped pumping between the girl’s thighs, and tried to reach for his sword, but Arya was too quick for him.

“Who are you?” Tyene Sand asked her.

Arya could now see Tyene’s bruised face. Her nose and lips were bleeding. Blood was also trickling down her legs. There were scratches and bite marks all over her naked body.

“No one.”

“Has Rhaenys send you?”

“I don’t know her.”

“What are you doing here, then?”

“I’m going to kill the Queen. I need a distraction. There’s a horse waiting for you at the stables. Can you ride?”

“I am naked.”

Arya had thought of this. She put the fur cloak she had brought with her around Tyene’s shoulders, and helped her fasten it, for the girl’s hands were too shaky to do it herself. She led her out of the black cells, up to the first level of the dungeons, which was much brighter compared to the torchless and windowless one below.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

“Were you serious? About killing Cersei?”

“Yes.”

“Listen, the Mountain… He will be guarding her.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll kill him first.”

“No, you don’t understand! You can’t kill him. My father—“

“Anyone can be killed. Come on.”

But before they could reach the iron door at the end of the narrow corridor, someone else swung it open.

The Mountain.

“Get back!” Arya told Tyene. She couldn’t see his face beneath the helm, but she knew she couldn’t talk her way out of this. She had to act quickly.

Arya drew Needle once again, and put a hole in his throat through the gap between his helmet and armor before the Mountain could even unsheath his sword. She then pulled Needle out, and smiled as she watched the blood leak out of that hole.

Arya had done it. The Mountain was dead.

But he didn’t collapse like a dead man should have, he didn’t grab his throat to stop the bleeding, he didn’t even so much as wince. The blood leaking out of the hole wasn’t red, but as black as tar. When he removed the helm and revealed his disfigured face, Arya realized what Tyene had been talking about.

_Valar Morghulis_ , she told herself. _All men must die._ But Ser Gregor Clegane was clearly not a man anymore. The Mountain took Needle from Arya, and snapped it in half.

…

Both Tyene and Arya had been taken to the throne room, but when Cersei came in, she didn’t sit down on the Iron Throne. Instead, she circled around the two girls, like a lioness circling around her prey before she killed them.

Arya and Tyene had been forced down on their knees, but they were keeping their heads high, and they both refused to cry. Even Tyene, who had been raped by seven different men only a few hours ago.

“Who are you?” Cersei asked Arya. “Who sent you here?”

Arya didn’t answer.

“You’re a traitor, girl. I’ll kill you, one way or the other… Just tell me who you are, and it will be less painful.”

If Arya wanted to survive this, there was only one way. Cersei wouldn’t hesitate to kill a worthless servant, but a Stark of Winterfell… She would be as valuable as Tyene. She was going to suffer, she was going to put Jon and Sansa in a lot of trouble as well, but she wasn’t going to die before she saw them again. Before she saw Winterfell again. She wasn’t going to die in King’s Landing…

_Not today…_

“What is this?” Cersei asked Jaime when Arya revealed her face.

“Arya Stark?” Jaime gaped at her, taking the face from her hands to examine.

“You little beast!” Cersei spat, slapping Arya as hard as she could. Then she grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look into her eyes. “What have you become?”

“Cersei!” Jaime said. “She won’t tell us anything. Let’s call her brother here to answer for her crimes instead.”

_I am sorry, Jon. I am so sorry…_

They put Arya and Tyene in the same black cell, and chained them up on opposite sides of the cell. “ _No more raping,”_ she had heard Ser Jaime tell Cersei. Why did he care, Arya didn’t know.

“So, you are a Faceless Man,” Tyene said once they were alone in the dungeon cell. They couldn’t see each other’s faces, but Arya could now hear a flicker of hope in her voice. “and a Stark…”

“How do you know about the Faceless Men?” Arya asked. The girl seemed to be well-educated. In fact, they could become good friends if they survived this.

“My father told me about them. He had met one of you in his travels.”

“Your father… You were saying something about your father before the Mountain found us.”

“My father _did_ kill him, Arya. Do you know why they called him the Red Viper? He always coated his blade with poison before a fight. Daemon said he used manticore venom the day he fought the Mountain. It is slow, but death is certain the moment it touches your skin.”

“I know about poisons,” Arya said. “I know there’s no cure for manticore venom.”

“So,” Tyene sighed heavily. “How do you kill a dead man?”

“Apparently, you can’t.”

…

They were doing their best to remain hopeful, but Cersei was determined to take that hope away from them. The next time she visited the cell, she had brought a torch, a whip, and the Mountain with her.

“I promised my brother not to hurt you,” she complained to Arya. “It’s because of that ugly cow, Brienne… But luckily, I didn’t make any promises about this little Dornish whore. It’s quite ironic, isn’t it, Tyene? Because of your father, Ser Gregor is stronger than ever… I bet he’s rolling in his grave right now.”

“And _your_ father will be rolling in his grave when Rhaenys comes for me,” Tyene said defiantly.

Cersei smirked. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

She turned to Arya again. “It was you who murdered the Freys, wasn’t it? Now everything makes sense…”

Arya remained silent. She couldn’t confess it, that would only cause more trouble for Jon.

“Jaime can’t protect you forever, you little beast. Do you know why I’ve brought you here, to this cell? This was the cell where your father spent his final days. The darkness, it was unbearable for the poor Ned Stark… I even thought he might lose his senses.”

“You’re a liar, my father was a brave man!”

“Many brave men died screaming in these cells. But the darkness doesn’t bother you much, does it? Or, did you think it would escape my notice? Oh, no… So, I can’t hurt you—yet—but there’re other ways to torment you.”

“No!” Tyene cried. “No, please!”

“You know, Tyene, I’m actually disappointed. What happened to _Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken_?  I thought those were your words. Oh, but you’re not a Martell, are you? You’re a Sand. A bastard. Just like your father’s whore. Did it ever hurt you? To see your father in the arms of a woman who wasn’t your mother?”

Gregor Clegane unchained Tyene, stripped her naked, and then chained her up again, but this time she was facing the wall, and her back was exposed.

“How many Freys did you kill, exactly?” Cersei asked Arya. “It’s hard to remember, isn’t it? Well, I don’t blame you, I’m not sure even Lord Walder himself could remember all of them.”

“I didn’t kill any Freys,” Arya said stubbornly.

Cersei ignored her. “Let’s say half a hundred, shall we?” She handed the whip to the Mountain. “Yes, half a hundred is a good start.”


	23. Dragonstone

Jon was a prisoner on this island. Queen Daenerys had taken his ship and his weapons. She wasn’t very happy to hear that the North didn’t want a Southern ruler, and she didn’t seem very happy to see the infamous Littlefinger with him either. But what else could Jon have done? He knew Brienne would protect Sansa with her life, but even Valyrian steel couldn’t cut through Littlefinger’s lies. Jon had had to take that cunning man with him after he had made his intentions about Sansa very clear in the Winterfell crypts. No wonder he already had several clever plans to get out of here by now, but Jon didn’t want to hear any of them. Sansa was right, only a fool would trust Littlefinger.

Jon had come here for dragonglass, but to his surprise, someone else had started mining it a long time ago. He had spoken to the miners, and they had said they were here on Princess Rhaenys’ orders. This was a complete mystery to him. Prince Rhaegar’s son had conquered the stormlands, but when Prince Doran Martell had died, he and his sister had renounced their father’s name and their claim on the Iron Throne. Rhaenys Martell had become the Ruling Princess, murdered Myrcella Baratheon, and sent her body back to King’s Landing. At least that was what Lord Tyrion had told him. But even Lord Tyrion didn’t know what they were doing with dragonglass. Somehow, Dorne knew about the White Walkers, why else would they be mining dragonglass? Daenerys simply refused to talk about her niece and nephew, though. She let Rhaenys’ men mine the dragonglass, but that was only because they were innocent. _“These men are miners, not soldiers. I will not butcher them.”_ Jon hadn’t forced her to tell him more after this, because the hurtful look on Daenerys’ face made him uncomfortable, almost guilty.

Since there wasn’t much he could do here, he spent most of his time exploring the island with Ghost. Thankfully, Daenerys hadn’t put Ghost in a cage. _“A dragon is not a slave, and neither is a direwolf,”_ she had said. The dragonlords must have used magic to build this place; Jon would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. He wished Arya could be here, with him. His curious little sister wouldn’t rest until she discovered all the secrets of the ancient seat of the Targaryens.

What had happened to her? How had she died? They were never going to find out. They were never going to find out what had happened to Bran either. Sam had said he was somewhere beyond the Wall. No one could survive there. Jon hoped that someone had burned his body, at least. Jon’s heart sank every time he thought about Arya and Bran.

There was something ominous in the air tonight. Mayhaps it was this mist… It was getting thicker and thicker, Jon realized, obscuring everything from sight.

“Ghost!” he called out. “Let’s go back.”

Together, they set back off to the castle. But Jon stopped in his tracks when he heard a dragon’s roar. Lucky for both Jon and Daenerys, Drogon and Ghost hadn’t tried to kill each other so far. In fact, Ghost was simply indifferent to Daenerys and her people, which was a relief, because the direwolf would usually become restless around people who wished Jon ill.

Through the mist, Jon saw the dragon. He was smaller than Drogon, though, and his scales were green and bronze, not black and red.

“Ghost…” he said warily as the unfamiliar beast came closer and closer. “This is not Drogon! He doesn’t know us, stay back!”

Jon knew Daenerys was supposed to have three dragons, but he had never seen the other two. When he had asked her, she had simply repeated, _“A dragon is not a slave.”_ He wished he had his sword right now, but then realized he was just being stupid. How could he kill a dragon with a sword? Even Ghost didn’t stand a chance against a beast like this.

The green dragon landed just in front of him. The ground beneath Jon’s feet shook when he did. Jon had never been so close to a dragon before. He would usually observe Drogon from a safe distance as he circled around the top of the castle or soared above the Narrow Sea, that was all.

He thought he would be terrified, but he wasn’t. Not really. The beast bared his teeth and roared. Jon glanced towards Ghost, whose teeth also had been bared threateningly, to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but other than that, he remained still.

“Rhaegal!” A woman shouted. “That’s enough!”

Rhaegal fell silent, but lowered his head as if he wanted to examine Jon more closely.

Jon now could see the people on his back. A golden-haired girl, and an olive-skinned woman with a disfigured face. The former seemed quite shaken, but Jon honestly couldn’t blame her. The latter was staring at Ghost.

“The White Wolf…” she then greeted Jon.

Daenerys’ niece and nephew had the other dragons, now he understood. “The Dragon of Dorne…”

“Please, I hate that name.” Princess Rhaenys took the golden-haired girl’s hand, and together they dismounted. Then she released her, and extended her hand to Jon.

“Rhaenys Nymeros Martell,” she introduced herself formally. “The Ruling Princess of Dorne.”

Jon shook her hand. “Jon Snow. The King in the North.”

“You are Lord Stark’s son!”

“I am,” he replied, not knowing why the mention of his father made this woman so cheerful.

“Lord Stark was a man of honor.”

“He was.”

“I won’t forget what he did for my mother. It might not mean anything to the Targaryens, but it means a great deal to us.”

Jon was confused. Had his father done something for Elia Martell? “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lord Stark demanded justice for my mother after the Sack of King’s Landing. He demanded the Mountain’s head.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Rhaenys nodded, then they both realized that Rhaegal was still staring at Jon.

“Curious,” Rhaenys murmured. “Rhaegal doesn’t like strangers much… Will you touch him, please?”

“What?”

“Will you touch him?”

He would look like a coward if he refused, and to be honest, the idea of touching a dragon was tempting. Slowly, he removed the glove on his right hand, put his hand on Rhaegal’s snout. The thick, rough skin was quite warm, and although Jon knew that the beast could swallow him whole if he wished, he was visited by a strange sort of relief. The beast closed his huge, bronze eyes, and hummed.

“He likes you…”

“Isn’t he normally… this friendly?” Jon asked, now petting the dragon.

“Viserion, my brother’s dragon, has always been more peaceful and friendly, but Rhaegal? No, definitely not. But I bet he can feel how much respect I have for you and for your family. Dragons are quite intelligent.”

Jon withdrew his hand and put the glove back on. “What my father did for Princess Elia… Why is it so important to you?”

A smile played about her lips, and she looked at the golden-haired girl. “The Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts.”

“Who is she?” Jon asked harshly when he remembered that he had been speaking to the murderer of an innocent girl.

“I’m Rosamund Lannister,” the girl replied. “I was a handmaiden to Princess Myrcella.”

“Lord Tyrion deserves to know how his niece really died,” Rhaenys explained. “I was taking her to him, but Rhaegal apparently decided to meet you first.”

“She didn’t seem comfortable on your dragon’s back, though,” he reminded her, with a hint of accusation in his tone. Did she enjoy tormenting the poor girl?

“I am well aware of that, King Jon. But she wouldn’t be safe with me anymore. The battlefield is no place for a child.”

“Right,” Jon agreed, recalling the poor Rickon’s fate. “Are you going to war?”

“Actually, the war is coming to you. Euron Greyjoy is planning to destroy Daenerys’ armada tonight. Who do you think is responsible for this mist?”

“What?”

“Euron Greyjoy is not only a pirate, he is also a sorcerer. Don’t worry, though, we will take care of it before the battle begins.”

“Are you a witch?” he blurted out.

The question had apparently entertained her. She laughed. “No, Jon Snow, I am not a witch.”

“Very well, then. I’ll warn Queen Daenerys. Do you know how many ships Euron Greyjoy has?”

“A thousand, at least. Let’s hope that Cersei hasn’t given him more. Too bad Daenerys has lost the Redwyne fleet. And the Unsullied are still stranded at Casterly Rock, from what I have heard…”

Jon felt a sudden urge to defend the Dragon Queen. “She still has quite a large fleet, and Queen Yara to command it.”

“She is going to need my help.”

“You’re both going to need each other’s help. The Dornishmen are not a sea people.”

She narrowed her dark eyes suspiciously. “How many ships have _you_ brought?”

“Only one.”

“Why are you here, Jon Snow?”

“For dragonglass. In fact, I was hoping I could ask you why you had men here to mine it.”

“I was told it could be used against the army of the dead.”

“How do you know…”

“Didn’t Maester Aemon send ravens to the great lords of Westeros to warn them?”

“He did,” Jon recalled, taken aback. “I just… I thought no one took those warnings seriously.”

“Well, my uncles did. They sent one of my cousins to the Citadel to discover ways to defeat the Night King. But we have more pressing concerns right now, like Euron Greyjoy.”

“Right,” he agreed.

“Do you know where Queen Yara is? Is she inside the castle? I wish to speak with her.”

“I believe she is still on her ship. Are you sure you don’t want to speak with Queen Daenerys?”

“Will she be commanding the fleet?” she asked, her voice full of mockery.

“I don’t think she will,” Jon admitted.

“Then I have nothing to tell her.”

“If you say so…”

“Will you please take Rosamund to Lord Tyrion?” she asked. “I must see Queen Yara, and then return to my army at once. And I would be grateful if you asked Daenerys to let my miners take shelter inside the castle.”

“You have my word.”

“Thank you, King Jon.”

“Princess…”

“Yes?”

“I’m a guest here. Queen Daenerys’ guest. That means I can’t betray her trust. Am I speaking to an enemy of hers?”

“I will not kill Daenerys. Not unless she tries to kill me, or my people. You have my word as well.”

She then turned around and mounted Rhaegal again.

Her sword was Valyrian steel, he noticed, and she was wearing a strange leather armor. Jon didn’t have the slightest idea what it was made of, but whatever it was, it had to be priceless. Such things wouldn’t be given to a silly princess who wanted to play at war. She was a dangerous woman, Jon thought. She could be a formidable enemy, or an equally formidable ally. Her scars alone made it clear that she had seen the true face of war before, and survived.

After the green dragon and his rider disappeared in the mist, Jon, Rosamund, and Ghost returned to the castle together.

He found Daenerys and Tyrion in the Chamber of the Painted Table. They were talking about the unnatural mist.

“Lord Tyrion?” Rosamund interrupted them.

Lord Tyrion turned to see who was speaking, then his mismatched eyes widened in shock. “Rosamund?”

He crossed to them, took Rosamund’s hands into his, and studied her from head to toe.

“I thought you were dead!” Tyrion told her. “How did you come here?”

“Princess Rhaenys brought me.”

Daenerys was watching them with utter confusion.

“I’ve just met your niece,” Jon explained. “Euron is coming.”

…

The mist had lifted by the time Euron’s fleet appeared on the horizon. Yara and Theon were ready for him. Daenerys had given Jon and his men their weapons back, but asked them to stay inside the castle with her advisors. Jon didn’t like this; he didn’t want to hide like a coward while Daenerys was out there. But Ser Davos was right. They were only guests here. He refused to bend the knee, which meant that this wasn’t his fight. He had come here with a handful of men, he couldn’t ask them to risk their lives just because Jon feared for Daenerys.

“You’re too important,” Tyrion, who had also donned an armor, told her, and Jon was grateful to him for speaking the words Jon himself wasn’t allowed to speak. “The dragons are mighty beasts, but it takes only one arrow to kill a dragon rider.”

“What do you think?” she suddenly asked Jon.

“I think you should lead your army,” he replied half-heartedly, recalling how her niece had mocked Daenerys earlier. “It will give your people courage.”

“We should’ve never sent the Unsullied to Casterly Rock,” Lord Tyrion admitted his mistake after the Queen left.

Jon was trying to maintain hope. He had to. “Princess Rhaenys has promised to help.”

Tyrion frowned in response. “I wouldn’t count on her word.”

“Do you still think she murdered Myrcella?” Jon asked.

“Rosamund says it was an accident, but I’m not sure yet. Do you know how many ships she has?”

“No.”

“The Martells had more than two decades to prepare for this,” Littlefinger chimed in. For some reason, he had been very, very glad to hear that Jon had met the Dornish Princess. Jon had no idea why. “And the dragons weren’t even a part of their plan until recently.”

Jon wasn’t even listening to them anymore. He was watching the winged shadow soaring above Euron’s fleet, and occasionally raining fire on them. He knew Daenerys was on the dragon's back. Every time a fireball, or a stream of arrows flew towards her, Jon’s heart jumped to his throat. He hadn’t felt anything like this, not in a long time. Not since Ygritte’s death.

Although Jon had grown up with a Greyjoy, he didn’t know much about naval warfare. Theon was too young when he came to Winterfell, and the two had never been very close. The Northerners weren’t a sea people. In fact, Jon had never given much thought to ships in his life until he needed them to save the Free Folk at Hardhome. But even he could see that Yara was proving herself to be a worthy queen for the Ironborn, no wonder so many of them had chosen her instead of Euron. Still, Daenerys needed more ships. And more dragons…

There was a flagon of wine in the room, and Tyrion was already refilling his cup. Jon decided that he needed a drink as well. He knew that he should remain sober, that drinking wine in the middle of a battle wasn’t the smartest idea, but recently, Jon hadn’t been making the smartest decisions around the Dragon Queen.

_Just one cup_ , he told himself, scratching Ghost’s head to calm himself down. _I won’t get drunk._

He couldn’t blame himself to be nervous, though. Even Missandei, who always wore a confident smile around the Queen’s Northern guests, now seemed troubled.

“Your Grace, look!” Ser Davos was pointing at something in the sky.

Jon turned around to look, and realized that there were now two more dragons flying above the burning ships. The three dragons were dancing around each other. Jon wondered if they were greeting Daenerys, or threatening her. Rhaenys had given him her word, but he didn’t even know her, how could he trust a stranger? What if they were actually with Euron?

“How do we know they’re not with Euron?”

Lord Varys shook his head. “Impossible. Euron Greyjoy has earned Cersei’s trust by killing two Sand Snakes, and giving another to Cersei.”

“What are the Sand Snakes?”

“Prince Oberyn’s bastard daughters. Rhaenys is known to be quite fond of them.”

That helped Jon feel a bit better. Now there were even more ships on the horizon. Most of the sails bore the sigil of House Martell. Others either had solid gold banners, some minor houses from the stormlands, or foreign sigils Jon couldn’t recognize.

Littlefinger’s smirk was wider than ever, but it immediately faded when he caught Jon staring at him. Jon almost wished Sansa were here, mayhaps she would be able to tell what this man was up to this time. Did he want the dragons for himself? No, that would be insane, even for Littlefinger…

…

Euron Greyjoy’s fleet had been destroyed, but Euron himself had somehow fled. The rest of the Ironborn had pledged their loyalty to Yara. She, Theon, and the Dornishmen were still searching the island for Euron, though, at least Daenerys had said so. Jon decided to join the search, hoping he and Rhaenys could talk about the Night King and dragonglass.

Jon wanted Daenerys’ support, he truly did, but he couldn’t bend the knee. She said the North would follow him if he did, but she didn’t know anything about the North. He was a Snow, not a Stark. A Stark could choose to bend the knee and tell his people to do the same, but a Snow couldn’t. Kingship wasn’t his birthright. The North and the Free Folk had chosen him because they wanted a ruler who wouldn’t kneel to anybody.

_“EURON GREYJOY!!! COME OUT AND DIE, YOU FUCKING COWARD!!!”_ A man’s savage roar echoed in the night.

“Well, at least they’re not hard to find, are they?” Ser Davos sighed.

They followed the noises, and found the search party soon enough. Most were carrying torches, and they all had their weapons drawn.

“He is probably dead by now,” Yara told Rhaenys. Both women were covered in blood now, Jon had been barely able to recognize them. “You say you destroyed his ship. He had nowhere to run.”

Rhaenys didn’t seem convinced. “I told you, he wasn’t on the _Silence_. It was the one with a mouthless maiden on the prow, right?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I searched every corner of the ship. He wasn’t there.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Theon said. “His fleet is gone, his men have surrendered. Yara is the Queen of the Iron Islands.”

“I will not rest until I see Euron’s head on a spike,” a silver-haired young man, whose handsome face was twisted with fury, said. He must have been the one who had been telling Euron to come out and die. Prince Aegon.

Jon cleared his throat to get their attention.

“King Jon! It is good to see you again. I believe you haven’t met my brother.”

Aegon extended his hand. “Aegon Martell, the Prince of Storm’s End.”

Jon took it and smiled politely. “Well met, Prince Aegon. This is my advisor, Ser Davos Seaworth.”

“Ser _Davos_?” Rhaenys asked. “Were you named after Ser Davos Dayne?”

Puzzled, Ser Davos looked at Jon, then Rhaenys. “I beg your pardon?”

“Ser Davos Dayne, a Sword of the Morning, and Princess Nymeria’s third husband.”

Ser Davos nodded. “Oh, I see. But I don’t think my father named me after a Dayne, Princess. I was just another poor lad born in Flea Bottom.”

“Princess,” Jon started. “Euron Greyjoy is no longer a threat. Let your men keep searching the island if you wish, but we must talk about the Night King.”

“The Night King is not my priority right now.”

“What?” Jon asked, aghast. “Do you think this is a game?”

“No,” she replied coldly. “But Cersei has one of my cousins, I have to save her first. Only then, I will start worrying about the Night King.”

“Your cousin can wait!”

“Believe me, Jon Snow, Princess Rhaenys understands the gravity of the situation as much as you do,” a familiar voice spoke. “The Wall still stands between the living and the dead, we have time.”

“You,” Ser Davos hissed. He was going to attack the Red Woman, but Jon stopped him.

“Your Grace!” he said, fuming, “You said you’d execute her if she came back.”

“I said I’d execute her if she returned to the North. We’re not in the North.”

“Right,” he agreed, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “Forgive me, Your Grace.”

“I will send a raven to Storm’s End and order my men to transport all the dragonglass to the North,” Aegon promised.

_That is not such a bad start_ , Jon thought. “Good. What kind of weapons are we talking about?”

“Mostly daggers and spearheads. Arrowheads for the archers. My blacksmiths say it is impossible to make anything larger than those with dragonglass. They once tried to make a short sword, it shattered into a hundred pieces before anyone could even swing it.”

Jon spotted the Valyrian steel sword in Aegon’s hand. It was a bastard sword, like Longclaw. “Valyrian steel can kill them as well. How many Valyrian steel swords do you have?”

“Only two.”

“Sarella told me that your friend, Samwell Tarly, had a Valyrian steel sword as well,” Rhaenys said. “Heartsbane.”

Jon frowned. Sam had said his family had a Valyrian steel sword, but his father wouldn’t have given it to Sam. Not that it mattered, of course. Sam’s father and brother were dead. They had refused to bend the knee, and Daenerys had burned them alive.

“Samwell Tarly? How do you know him?”

“I told you, Prince Oberyn sent one of his daughters to the Citadel. You sent Samwell to the Citadel for the same reason while you were the Lord Commander.”

“Yes, but Sam went there to forge his chain and become a maester. How did they let a girl into the Citadel?”

“I was disguised as a boy,” a dark-skinned girl replied. Her curly hair was so short that Jon had indeed thought she was a boy before she spoke. She was carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows. “Sam knows me by the name Alleras.”

Sam hadn’t mentioned any friends in his letter, but it was a rather short letter, only telling Jon about the dragonglass. Jon was slightly relieved to see that he wasn’t completely alone in this war. These people had different priorities, but at least they knew what was coming.

“Jon Snow!” Tyrion called out. “One of Euron’s men… He had something for you.”

The dwarf was running towards them, as fast as his short legs would carry him. For some reason, he seemed horrified. What had happened?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Lord Tyrion stopped in his tracks. “This…” he said, panting, “This is for you… From… Cersei.”

He was holding a roll of parchment, and something that had been wrapped in rags. Jon took the latter first, and found a castle-forged, skinny sword, broken in half. Jon hadn’t seen this in years…

Needle.

No, Cersei was just playing a mind game with him. Arya must have lost Needle somewhere at the Red Keep when she had escaped the city years ago. Cersei had found it, now he was trying to threaten Jon with a broken sword. No, Arya was already dead…

Ser Davos took the rags and the pieces of the broken Needle from his hands. “Your Grace?”

“Arya,” he was able to say.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to show any fear. He was a king. But how could he? It was as if his heart wasn’t pumping blood, but pure, liquid fear into his veins.

“Read the letter, Jon Snow,” Rhaenys urged him softly, as if she could read his thoughts. “You are the King in the North, and Arya Stark is your sister. She is a valuable hostage. Cersei couldn’t have killed her.”

Jon looked at her. She and Aegon were the only ones who understood him right now, and he felt terrible when he remembered how he had just told them to abandon their cousin. Death had changed him indeed. It had taken something from him. The old Jon would never tell anyone to abandon their family, even for the greater good. But now that Arya was back in his life, he had almost returned to his old self. _Almost_.

He took the scroll from Tyrion, and broke the seal.

He couldn’t believe his eyes at first. Arya had been caught helping Tyene Sand escape the dungeons of the Red Keep. Cersei said she was _an assassin who could change faces_ , and accused Jon and Rhaenys conspiring against the crown together. She was summoning them to King’s Landing to answer for their crimes.

“Did you know my sister?” Jon snapped at Rhaenys. “Was she working for you?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, Jon Snow, I didn’t even know your sister was alive.”

Jon shoved the letter into her hands.

“Your sister is a Faceless Man?” she gasped after reading it. Jon couldn’t tell if she was horrified, or impressed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The Faceless Men are an order of assassins in Braavos. The deadliest assassins in the known world…”

Braavos? Was Arya in Braavos all this time? He took several deep breaths, trying to figure out what to say next. He decided to start with an apology.

“It was wrong of me to ask you to abandon your cousin. I see that now. But I’m sure you have a plan to save her, and I need you to share it with me. Because we’re in this together.”

“Of course. I have the perfect plan to destroy the Lannisters, and to get Arya and Tyene back.”

“I’m sure Queen Daenerys will want to hear that perfect plan of yours as well,” Tyrion broke in.

“She is not my queen,” Rhaenys said stubbornly.

“Please,” Jon pleaded. “We all want Cersei dead.”

“Very well. Brother, Lady Melisandre, come with me. Sarella, take the rest of our people back to the ships.”

“Why is _she_ coming with you?” Ser Davos asked Rhaenys angrily.

“Believe me, Ser Davos, my people aren’t very happy to see her by my side either. Especially the orphans of the Greenblood. But you will want to hear what Lady Melisandre has to say,” Rhaenys answered.

“We’ll keep searching the island,” Yara announced. “Just in case.”

Jon, Rhaenys, Aegon, Ser Davos, Lady Melisandre, and Lord Tyrion set off to the castle together. Jon silently prayed that no one saw how badly his hands were trembling. _“Kill the boy,”_ Maester Aemon had told him. _“Kill the boy, and let the man be born.”_ Jon had thought the boy had died when his sworn brothers betrayed him, but he was wrong. The boy was alive, and he wanted his little sister back.

…

The concern on Daenerys’ face was genuine.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

They were all sitting around the Painted Table now. Jon’s eyes darted from _Winterfell_ to _King’s Landing_. “I want to hear Princess Rhaenys’ plan.”

“A trial by combat,” Rhaenys said.

A trial by combat? It couldn’t be that simple. Jon had expected something… more elaborate. “Do you honestly think Cersei will give us a fair trial? We’ll be dead the moment we walk through the gates.”

“That’s exactly why my army will be waiting outside.”

“It might not be such a bad idea,” Tyrion broke in. “Some people have already started calling my sister the Mad Queen after what happened to the Sept of Baelor. Now, Cersei might be stupid, but she is not _that_ stupid. She needs allies, for that she needs to prove those rumors wrong. A fair trial is the perfect chance to do that. She will take it.”

“What about the secret passages?” Ser Davos suggested.

Lord Tyrion shook his head. “Cersei must have learned her lesson after my escape. Lord Varys says the dungeons are well guarded now, it would be too dangerous.”

“It makes sense,” Jon agreed. He trusted Tyrion’s judgment. After all, Cersei was his sister, and he knew her better than anyone else here. “But how are you planning to destroy the Lannisters with a trial by combat?”

“Cersei’s champion will be the Mountain.”

“And who will be ours?”

She looked at him as if he had just asked the stupidest question she had ever heard. “Me.”

“Let’s hope that you’re better than your uncle,” Tyrion sneered.

Rhaenys shot him a sharp, angry glare. “My uncle _did_ kill Ser Gregor Clegane. I have spoken to his squire, he swears Oberyn’s spear was coated with manticore venom. There is no cure for manticore venom.”

“Why did he not remain dead, then?” Tyrion went on.

“Because Cersei has a necromancer at her disposal.”

These words hung in the air for a moment.

“He can’t be killed easily, can he?” Jon sighed. “Would Valyrian steel work?”

“No,” Melisandre replied. “The one they call Gregor Clegane is now darkness made flesh. Even Valyrian steel can’t destroy darkness itself.”

“The dragons can,” Daenerys suggested.

“I don’t think Cersei will let us choose a dragon as our champion,” Jon argued.

“No, she won’t,” Rhaenys agreed. “But again, I don’t have to win. I just have to prove that Cersei’s chainless maester is a necromancer. If there is a sin worse than incest, kinslaying, or oathbreaking in the realm, it is necromancy. I will die, but the angry mob will take care of the rest. They will open the gates for our armies.”

“What if something goes wrong?” Jon asked. “What if Cersei tries to kill us once her secret is revealed?”

Rhaenys looked at the dragon relief on the wall.

“The dragons?”

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“With respect, Princess, I’m not a Targaryen, I don’t know much about dragons. Are you sure they will come for us in time?”

“Of course I am sure.”

“So, this is not a trial,” Daenerys gasped, her queenly appearance gone. “This is suicide!”

“Oh, that’s touching, Daenerys. Have you grown fond of me, after all?” Rhaenys scoffed.

“I don’t care how much you hate me, Rhaenys, you are my family.”

“No, I am not.”

“I can’t let you do this.”

“I am not asking for permission.”

“Careful, Daenerys,” Aegon warned her. “We are not in Meereen, and you are not the only one with an army anymore.” He was giving Daenerys the same murderous glare Ser Davos was giving the Red Woman. Jon felt a strange urge to protect Daenerys from him.

“What if _I_ don’t agree to let you be our champion?” Jon asked.

“Why not? Because I don’t have a cock?”

“No, it’s not that! I just… I’ve never seen you fight before, how do you expect me to trust you with my sister’s life? Will you be able to prove what the Mountain has become before he kills you?”

“I told you, I owe your family a debt. This is my chance to pay it. Who else is going to die for us? You? Are you really willing to let your sister watch as the Mountain smashes your head in, like he did to my uncle? Can you imagine your sister’s pain?”

Rhaenys was right, that would destroy Arya…

“What about Aegon’s pain?” Daenerys asked.

“Rhaenys is my elder, and my princess. This is her command,” Aegon said firmly. “She has never failed us before, and she won’t fail us this time.”

“Bend the knee,” Daenerys told Rhaenys, “And I will choose one of my men as your champion.”

“No. My mother’s people will never bleed for the Targaryens again.”

“Either way, they will die.”

“At least they won’t die fighting your wars. Do you think you set people free, Daenerys? You take those who have nowhere else to go, and ask them to die for you. That's not freedom. You are not very different from the slavers.”

“If you have so much love for your  mother’s people, you should honor the vows they made to my family.”

“It was you who deceived us with the promise of peace! It was your father and brother who pissed on those _vows_! Even then, we kept our word. But no more. My ancestors were wrong to trust House Targaryen. I will not make the same mistake.”

“Your children will have to grow up without a mother because of your pride!”

“My pride? Let me tell you something about my pride, Daenerys. I lived as a Sand for seventeen years, and those were the proudest years of my life. The Sand Snakes weren’t my cousins, they were my sisters. Euron took two of them from me. Give me my sisters back, and I will spend the rest of my life scrubbing the floors in the Red Keep. Fuck my pride!”

_“Fuck my pride.”_ They were nothing alike, but Rhaenys somehow reminded Jon of Mance Rayder.

“Will _she_ be coming with us?” Ser Davos asked, still staring at Melisandre. “Do we have to burn another little girl for victory?”

“No, Ser Davos. I have made many mistakes, but at least I have done my part in this war. I am leaving this island tomorrow.”

“And where will you go?”

“To Volantis.”

Daenerys gave Tyrion a meaningful look before speaking to her niece. “You only care about what is yours, Rhaenys. Like everyone else. That’s why you will always be another spoke on the wheel the first Aegon built. Until I break it. If you wish to die, I won’t stop you, but I’m coming with you, to protect the people of King’s Landing from you. Because they are my people, and obviously you will do nothing to protect them from Cersei.”

"Fine!" Rhaenys relented, but stormed out of the room, muttering curses under her breath. The rest of the Dornishmen followed her. Daenerys dismissed everyone else, saying she wanted to have a word with Jon alone.

“I believe you,” Daenerys said once they were the only ones left in the Chamber of the Painted Table.

“What?” Jon gasped.

“Back in Meereen, Aegon had told me something about fighting _enemies beyond my comprehension_ … Then, when I landed on this island, I found his sister’s men mining some worthless rock. None of these had made sense to me until you risked everything and came here. For the same worthless rock.”

“So, are you going to help me?”

“Will you bend the knee after I do?”

“My people—“

“I will earn your people’s respect by saving them. Will you bend the knee then?”

This was his only chance. Once the army of the dead was defeated, he didn’t care what happened to him. “I will.”

“Good,” she smiled. “First, we will save your sister, then we will go to the North.”


	24. Dog Blood

Aegon sighed thoughtfully. “We have never been so close to King’s Landing in years…”

“It is even uglier than I remember,” Rhaenys muttered, although she couldn’t see much in the dark. All she could make out was the outline of the Red Keep and the walls that surrounded the city.

“ _A stinking shit pile of a city_ … That was how Oberyn used to call it, remember?”

“Of course I remember.”

Aegon hadn’t been very sentimental about Dragonstone during their time on the island, although they both had been born there, but King’s Landing was different. It was where they had lost their mother. It was where they had lost Oberyn.

“Rhaenys…”

“Yes?”

“Be careful tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“No, I am serious! You rely too much on Kinvara’s prophecy. You know how Oberyn died. If you make one mistake while fighting the Mountain, one simple mistake…”

“Aegon,” she said, stroking the sleek silver hair off his forehead to soothe him. “If Kinvara is right, I will kill the Mountain tomorrow. If not, I might die, but then I will never have to worry about killing you. So, tell me, how can I possibly lose?”

He didn’t answer her question. “It is getting late. We better get some rest,” he said instead.

“Right,” she agreed.

She saw Jon emerging from Daenerys’ tent. He had been spending too much time with Daenerys lately. Aegon wasn’t very happy about it. He thought they had fallen in love, and would soon start conspiring against Dorne together. Rhaenys disagreed. While they obviously fancied one another, conspiring against an ally who had sworn to repay her debt of gratitude to Lord Stark wasn’t Jon’s way. If Rhaenys earned his respect, he could even convince Daenerys to leave Dorne be.

“Rhaenys, a word in private?” Jon asked.

She nodded, then turned to Aegon and said, “Don’t leave Sarella alone tonight. Poor girl, she is so scared for Tyene.”

Aegon went to find Sarella and comfort her, while Rhaenys took Jon to her tent.

“Lord Tyrion will be coming with us tomorrow,” Jon announced.

“Why?”

“He thinks he is the only one who can convince Jaime Lannister that Myrcella’s death wasn’t your fault. And Jaime Lannister is the only one who can control Cersei.”

“Good idea. What about you, though? Do you still think I murdered the girl?”

“No. I think you’re too smart to kill such a valuable hostage,” he said, but it didn’t sound like a compliment at all.

 “You are trying too hard not to like me, King Jon,” she chuckled mirthlessly. “I told you, I am not your enemy.”

“You might not have killed the poor girl, but you sent her body back to King’s Landing in a Martell cloak.”

“I am the Ruling Princess of Dorne, Jon. My people loathe the Lannisters. What was I supposed to do? Go to King’s Landing and beg for forgiveness? Execute the crossbowman who had shot her?”

“So, your people would rather be ruled by a murderer of children?”

Jon wasn’t wrong. _“Quick to anger, slow to forgive.”_ This was how Doran would describe the Dornishmen.

“Anything else, Jon Snow?”

“No.”

“See you in the morning, then.”

After he left, she poured herself a cup of wine, and added three drops of the Essence of the Nightshade. She needed a good night’s rest. Tomorrow was the day of reckoning.

…

It was Aegon who came to wake her up before first light.

“How do you feel?”

Rhaenys yawned, stretched her muscles, and sit up in the bed before answering his question. “I feel ready. I know what you fear, Aegon, but I won’t make the same mistake with Oberyn. He fought for vengeance, and it got him killed.”

“You don’t want vengeance anymore?” he asked, taken aback.

“Do you know what I realized in that temple in Meereen? Revenge is the most selfish thing there is. We don’t want it for the ones we lost. We want it for ourselves, to feel better about ourselves. The truth is, I don’t want anything for myself, Aegon. Not anymore. I just know what needs to be done, and I am going to do it.”

“Well, I suppose this is better. You won’t get distracted, at least.”

“I won’t.”

Sarella helped Rhaenys don the dragon hide armor, then brushed her hair and braided it into a bun above her neck. She was taking her time, though, as if she wanted to keep Rhaenys in this tent forever and let someone else face the Mountain in the meantime.

“Come on, Sarella,” Rhaenys told her. “This is a trial, not a wedding.”

She flashed her an anxious, half-hearted smile. “No, but everyone will be watching you. The Dragon of Dorne, against the Mountain That Rides… Your duel with Gregor Clegane will be legendary. People will sing songs about how you avenged House Martell and—“

“Sarella,” she stopped her. Sarella was a nervous talker. “We will save Tyene, I promise.”

Her forced smile faded, and she gulped “What about you?”

“I will be fine.”

“It is done,” she announced after securing the bun with another hairpin.

By the time Rhaenys got out of the tent, the others were waiting for her, atop their horses. Aegon, Lord Tyrion, and Jon Snow. Cersei had apparently sent a messenger, there was another man waiting with them. Rhaenys mounted her own horse.

“Princess Rhaenys,” Lord Tyrion said. “This is Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. He will be escorting us to the Red Keep.”

“My lady,” Ser Bronn nodded.

“Let’s go,” Jon said.

Jon had chosen three Northern guards to accompany him, as Rhaenys had chosen three Dornish spearmen.

Aegon gave her a meaningful look when the gates were opened, and Rhaenys tried to smile. She knew what he was thinking. This was supposed to be his city. He had given up on his birthright not to become another Targaryen kinslayer. Daenerys was talking about breaking the wheel, but Aegon had already broken it when he had agreed to renounce his claim.

The crowd that had gathered along the streets didn’t seem very happy to see them.

“MURDERER!”

“WHORE!”

“BASTARD!”

“KINSLAYER!”

Jon was flushing with anger.

“Ignore them,” Rhaenys advised him under her breath. “Soon, they will all be cheering for us.”

Jon frowned.

“What?”

“For someone who is about to die, you seem… quite cheerful.”

“All men must die, Jon Snow. But first, we must serve. Today, I am going to serve the light.”

He shook his head, as if he was having second thoughts about this plan. “You’re half-mad, aren’t you?”

She shrugged. “I am half-Targaryen.”

“Alright everyone,” Ser Bronn announced. “We’ll walk from here.”

Rhaenys jerked her horse to a halt. They were now at the foot of the steps to the Keep. The doors were large enough to ride through on horseback, but Cersei probably didn’t want them to make such a glorious entrance.

“You have never seen it, have you?” she asked Jon as they climbed up the steps. “The Iron Throne?”

“No.”

“It is a dreadful thing,” Rhaenys recalled with disgust.

“Are you scared, Rhaenys?” Jon asked.

“Scared? None of those blasted swords are ours, why would I be scared?”

She hadn’t come back here to cower before another crowned beast.

A menacing silence greeted them when they entered, although the entire court was present. The dragon skulls were nowhere to be seen—Robert Baratheon must have destroyed them a long time ago—and the seven-pointed stars that had once decorated the windows had been replaced with the Lannister lion.

Unlike Aegon or Jon, this wasn’t the first time she had been here, but it was indeed the first time she saw Cersei Lannister. Age had started taking its toll on her, and the long, beautiful golden locks she had heard so much about were gone, her hair was as short as Sarella’s. Rhaenys knew that the Faith had shaved her head before her walk of atonement, but she wondered why Cersei hadn’t let it grow back. Mayhaps she wanted to look like a man. She was the first Ruling Queen of Westeros, after all. _A queen who looks like a king._ It would make easier for people to get used to being ruled by a woman.

Cersei didn’t seem to pay any attention to the King in the North, the Prince of Storm’s End, or the Ruling Princess of Dorne, though. She was only looking at her brother, Tyrion.

“You,” she hissed. “You filthy little traitor. You murdered our father, now you’re standing with those who murdered my first-born son, and my only daughter.”

Tyrion looked around casually. “I’m sorry. Was this supposed to be _my_ trial?”

“Why are you here, then?” Ser Jaime asked.

“I’m only here on Queen Daenerys’ behalf.”

“Do you all serve the Mad King’s daughter now?”

“No,” Tyrion said. “Jon Snow and Rhaenys Martell are answering your summons. Queen Daenerys, on the other hand, is only here to protect the people of King’s Landing from you. From all of you.”

“How benevolent of her,” she mocked, “To defend the people of Westeros with an army of foreign eunuchs and savages.”

“Where is my sister? Where is Tyene Sand?” Jon asked impatiently.

Cersei waited until Tyene and Arya were brought into the throne room by the Mountain himself. Both Tyene and Arya were in chains. Tyene’s face was covered in cuts and bruises, but Arya, whose resemblance to Lyanna Stark was impossible to deny, appeared to be unharmed.

To Rhaenys, Lyanna Stark was just a vague memory. She had seen her only once, at Harrenhal, when Rhaegar had given her a crown of winter roses. She was only three back then, and her mother was pregnant with Aegon. But now, that moment had suddenly become so vivid, as if it had happened only yesterday.

But Rhaenys had stopped punishing people for the crimes they didn’t commit. Lyanna Stark had died, and her sins had died with her. Arya Stark wasn’t responsible for them. So, Rhaenys tried to focus on Tyene instead. She was here to save Tyene. And Arya Stark had been captured while trying to save her.

“Arya!” Jon made a move towards his sister, but the guards didn’t let him anywhere near the prisoners. Cersei was tormenting them in every way possible, that much was obvious.

 “The Bastard of Winterfell… Tell me, Jon Snow, how exactly did you become the King in the North?”

Jon pulled himself together quickly, and replied in a kingly manner, “The people of the North has chosen me to lead them.”

“Weren’t you the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch before that?”

“I was. Until my sworn brothers betrayed me.”

“Why? Why did they betray you?”

“I let the Free Folk pass through the wall.”

“So, you’ve brought another army of barbarians into the Seven Kingdoms? I can’t say I’m surprised… But I’m surprised to hear how _tolerant_ the North has recently become. After all, there is only one other kingdom in Westeros where bastards and savages are tolerated. Is this why you’ve made an alliance with Dorne? To secure your claim as a bastard?”

“I haven’t made any alliances with Dorne. I met Princess Rhaenys only a fortnight ago, on Dragonstone.”

“Why was she on Dragonstone?”

“For Euron Greyjoy’s head.”

“So, do you deny it? Didn’t you send your half-sister to rescue Tyene Sand?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did you know that your half-sister was a Faceless Man? Did you know that she was the one who murdered the Freys? That she was here to kill me, too?”

“She is not a Faceless Man. The Faceless Men are an order of assassins in Braavos. Arya has never been to Braavos.”

“How do you know that?”

“The Faceless Men might be a mystery,” Aegon apparently decided to break in. “But here is what everyone knows: Faceless Men don’t have families, friends, or allies. They are also not allowed to kill the people they knew before they joined the order. So, if Arya Stark has tried to kill you, she can’t be a Faceless Man. If she is a Faceless Man, she couldn’t have tried to kill you. It is that simple.”

Cersei turned to the chainless maester for confirmation. This had to be the necromancer. “True, Your Grace,” he admitted reluctantly.

“But they can kill a man and steal his face, right?” Cersei asked this time.

“Yes,” the necromancer answered.

“The witnesses say Lord Walder poisoned his own family during a feast. And they heard him say ‘Leave one wolf alive, and the sheep are never safe.’ Why would a Frey say something like that?”

_I already like this girl_ , Rhaenys thought. With the support of her uncles, and the love of the Dornishmen, it had been easy for Rhaenys to become a warrior. But she knew that the other six kingdoms were different. It couldn’t have been that easy for Arya Stark. Still, she had somehow become powerful enough to destroy an entire house, and rob Cersei of a powerful ally singlehandedly.

“Perhaps someone else hired a Faceless Man to avenge the Starks. Lord Stark was an honorable man, I am sure he had many friends,” Rhaenys said.

“Are you one of them?” Cersei asked coldly.

“I am. Lord Stark demanded justice for my murdered mother, while no one else cared.”

“So, you decided to repay that debt by killing the Freys? Are you the one who hired the assassin?”

“No. I intend to repay my debt today.”

“Well, both Ned Stark and Elia Martell had something in common. They were too weak to play the game of thrones, and weak people lose this game. Your mother died because she would never have been a worthy queen. I call it justice.”

“I know. It is a shame you weren’t the one Rhaegar chose to marry. You two would have been perfect for each other.”

Everyone was now looking at Rhaenys as if she was insane, but she wasn’t. If Cersei taunted her, Rhaenys had to taunt her back. To destroy the Lannister legacy, first she had to reveal the worst in Cersei.

But suddenly, Cersei’s queenly, tyrannical expression changed into a motherly one. The hatred remained, but the pain became more visible. “At least I wouldn’t have given birth to a monster like you. Tell me, did you murder my daughter yourself? Or did you command another butcher to do it?”

“Cersei, I—“ Tyrion started, but Cersei silenced him.

“It was you who had sent my only daughter to these serpents, so shut up!”

“I didn’t _murder_ her,” Rhaenys defended herself. “It was mercy killing. Ask Lord Tyrion if you don’t believe me.”

“Please, Cersei. Let him speak,” Jaime told his sister.

So, Lord Tyrion recited everything Rosamund had told him; how Rhaenys was planning to give the Lannisters a fair trial, how Ser Arys Oakheart had tried to take Myrcella and Rosamund back to King’s Landing, and how Myrcella had accidentally been shot by a crossbow bolt during the chase.

“You know how much I loved the children,” he added. “If I thought it was Rhaenys who murdered Myrcella, I wouldn't be here to defend her."

Ser Jaime’s face softened after these words, but Cersei remained unconvinced. “If you hadn’t killed my daughter, why did you send her back to King’s Landing wrapped in a Martell cloak?”

“Because it was your fault,” Rhaenys answered. “If you hadn’t panicked after Oberyn’s death and sent a cutthroat to Dorne, no harm would have come to Myrcella.”

“We had received a threat! Myrcella’s necklace, in the jaws of a viper. Or, do you deny it as well?”

Yes, that was the doing of the Sand Snakes. But they were her family, Rhaenys had to defend them, no matter what they did. “A terrible misunderstanding. It wasn’t a threat. It was a reminder. You seemed to have forgotten that your daughter was being fostered in Dorne.”

“Do you honestly think I wouldn’t remember where my only daughter was?“

“Then why did you let your father’s mad dog butcher a Prince of Dorne?”

“It was a trial by combat. Oberyn had volunteered to be Tyrion’s champion.”

“The duel should have been to first blood. Not to death. You and your father had the power to arrange that. But you were so desperate to see Lord Tyrion’s head on a spike that you didn’t give a shit about your daughter!”

“If the duel had been to first blood, Ser Gregor Clegane would’ve been in mortal danger anyway. Your uncle cheated, his blade was poisoned. We were lucky to have Qyburn.”

“Well, my uncle always said justice was in short supply this side of the mountains… I have nothing to prove to you, Cersei, for you are not my queen. I am here to answer to the gods, and to the people of King’s Landing. I demand a trial by combat. All I want from you is to give me a fair one.”

Cersei smirked, obviously she had been expecting to hear this all along. “Jon Snow’s grandfather, too, demanded a trial by combat once, I believe. Remind me, Ser Jaime, what happened to him?”

“The Mad King chose _fire_ as his champion.”

“Is that what you fear, Rhaenys? That I will do the same? Mayhaps you should’ve sent your aunt instead. I was told she was… _immune_ to fire. But you… No, you don’t look like a sorceress to me.”

“No, I am not a sorceress. But I am of Dorne, Cersei. I don’t have to be immune to fire. I am the fire.”

“You are even more arrogant than your uncle!”

Rhaenys looked at the Mountain. The monster who had killed her mother and her uncle.

“You haven’t seen him before, have you?” Cersei mocked.

“He is smaller than I thought.”

“Fear not, you will be given a fair trial. I’m not the Mad Queen, unlike what some might believe. Still, if you lose, you are going to share the same fate with Oberyn, the duel won’t be to first blood. And I want Qyburn to examine your blade before the fight.”

Rhaenys’ heart jumped. If they took the Lightbringer from her… She would truly be doomed, then. But thankfully, Qyburn returned the sword once he made sure there was no poison on it.

As Ser Bronn took them to the arena, Rhaenys realized this was the coldest day she had ever seen in her entire life, a cold, bitter day with a harsh wind. The sky was covered with dark grey clouds, making everything dark and gloomy. Was a storm coming? Rhaenys didn’t know much about storms. She didn’t know anything about winter at all. Neither did her men. They were going to need Jon Snow to lead them when the Wall was destroyed. Sooner or later, it would be destroyed, Aegon had said that it would.

But first, the Lannisters…

There was another unpleasant surprise waiting for them. Seven scorpions had been placed around the arena in a semi-circle, there was a guard standing behind each one, ready to shoot a bolt the moment a dragon appeared.

“What are those?” Jon asked.

“Scorpions,” Rhaenys whispered. “Queen Rhaenys’ dragon was killed at Hellholt with one of these.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry, I can take care of them.”

Jon stared at her, aghast. “ _Take care of_ seven scorpions? How, exactly?”

But before Rhaenys could say anything, four Lannister guards brought Tyene and Arya. They wrapped their chains around a post and locked them together. Cersei apparently wanted to make sure they wouldn’t take the prisoners and escape on dragonback.

“I need to speak with Arya.” Jon ran to his sister’s side.

Rhaenys and Aegon went with him, they wanted to speak with Tyene. But the guards were listening, so they had to choose their words carefully.

“Rhaenys, please don’t fight him!” Tyene begged. “You don’t know what he is, he won’t die, he just won’t, and—“

Rhaenys stroked her tangled, dirty hair. “It will be over soon.

“Tyene is right,” Arya Stark broke in. “He can’t be killed.”

Rhaenys gave her a small nod. “Thank you for your concern, Lady Arya, but I must repay my debt to House Stark.”

“I’m not a lady,” she blurted out. Rhaenys found this a bit amusing. She reminded her of Elia, who was the wildest and the most difficult of the Sand Snakes.

“You are absolutely right… Your brother is a king, that makes you a princess,” she teased.

Arya frowned.

“What?” Rhaenys chuckled. “Where I come from, it is a great honor, as it should be.”

“Is that Dark Sister?” she asked, looking at Dragonspawn.

“Dark Sister? No. This is… something else.”

They stopped talking when someone blew a horn and Cersei’s necromancer, Qyburn, walked into the center of the arena.

“People of King’s Landing! In the sighs of gods, and men, today we gather to…”

Rhaenys wasn’t paying him any attention. She was looking at the Mountain. He was still in his black-and-silver Queensguard armor. She hadn’t been able to see the face behind the helm yet, but she wasn’t expecting to find a living man’s face in there. He unsheathed his greatsword, and the clang of the steel ran through the air menacingly. Rhaenys unbuckled her sword belt, and gave the scabbard to Aegon with a meaningful look.

Aegon nodded, he knew why she was going to need it later.

Qyburn had walked out of the arena, and now the Mountain was running towards her, like the mad dog he was. He let out no mighty battle cries, though. She raised her own sword and went to face the monster she had been waiting to face for more than twenty years.

He was slow, though, too slow. And too predictable. Rhaenys had easily escaped the first blow, a pathetic attempt to cut her in half.

“Do I remind you of someone?” she asked casually. “Elia Martell, perhaps?”

Again, he didn’t say anything, but the name must have angered him, for he charged at her more violently for this second time. Still, Rhaenys parried the greatsword with another swift move.

“You have already confessed the crimes you committed against House Nymeros Martell. I have to admit, I am actually surprised you remembered my mother. She was neither the first, nor the last of your victims.”

So, this was it then. The Mountain was going to keep coming at her again and again. And Rhaenys was going to dodge his blows. She had never seen such a terrible swordsman before. He entirely relied on his inhuman strength, with almost no technique. To be honest, she was a bit disappointed. She had thought fighting Ser Gregor Clegane would be like fighting a god. Of course, he was still a deadly man, but as long as Rhaenys kept an eye on him, she had nothing to fear.

“So, let’s talk about the other houses your masters have wronged… How about House Stark?”

On their way to Dragonstone, Rhaenys had prayed the Lord of Light to show her what she needed to know to destroy the Lannister legacy, and the Lord had answered her prayers. Lady Melisandre had helped her see everything she needed to know in the flames.

“It all started when Brandon Stark caught Tywin’s twins fucking in an abandoned tower at Winterfell… They tried to kill him, but they failed. You know, for an empire built on dead children, you are terrible at killing children. After all, here we are…”

The crowd remained silent, but that was expected. The affair between Cersei and Ser Jaime wasn’t a secret anymore. Another savage blow from the Mountain grazed Rhaenys’ shoulder. Apparently, dragon hide wasn’t impenetrable, and she hadn’t been as fast as she thought she had. His lack of technique had made her overconfident.

_Aegon was right, I must be more careful._

“When Lord Eddard Stark discovered the truth about Cersei’s bastards, you executed him for treason! You forced an honorable man to confess a crime he didn’t commit, by threatening his daughter!”

This time, Rhaenys had been able to open a deep cut in the Mountain’s calf. With a strong enough blow, the Valyrian steel had cut through the armor like a knife cutting through butter. His blood was leaving a thick, black trail on the ground as he moved across the arena, but the Mountain didn’t seem to notice the wound. He wasn’t even limping.

“The Freys and the Boltons might have taken the blame for the Red Wedding, but it was the Lannisters who had brought them together, wasn’t it? What kind of fool would commit such atrocities against a great house without an insurance from Tywin Lannister himself?”

“And the destruction of the Sept of Baelor… It was no accident. When Cersei discovered the barrels of wildfire hidden beneath the city by the Mad King, she didn’t hesitate to use them to blow up the Sept!”

A horrified gasp came from the crowd as she and the Mountain circled each other. The Mad King’s wildfire plot wasn’t something she had seen in the flames, it was Tyrion Lannister who had told her.

“Still, these crimes are nothing, compared to what Cersei and her chainless maester done with you, right? Bringing you back from the dead… My uncle’s poisoned blade killed you. Manticore venom. There is only one cure for that. Necromancy. Yes, the Hand of the Queen is a necromancer!”

That changed everything. The Mountain suddenly became much faster, and much more violent. Now this was the dance Rhaenys had been expecting, a dance of death. She could no longer pay attention to the people’s reaction, or to anything else. Ser Gregor’s greatsword was all she could see.

She, too, had started moving much faster. She had no other choice. This had to end at once. Or, like Aegon had said, no prophecy would be able to save her.

Thankfully, she was much faster than the Mountain could ever be, and he eventually became so frustrated that he removed his helmet to be able to see her better, revealing the creature he had become. His face was withered and mangled, his eyes were crimson.

While removing his helmet, he had left the perfect opening for Rhaenys to stab him in the heart. Rhaenys drove Dragonspawn right through his chest, all the way to the hilt. Even a fool would know that it should have killed him. But it hadn't. Kinvara and Melisandre weren’t lying.

The Mountain tossed the helm and the greatsword aside, grabbed Rhaenys by her shoulders—she thought he was going to break her bones—and turned to Cersei, awaiting her orders. Rhaenys’ fingers tightened around Dragonspawn’s hilt.

Cersei rose from her seat. She didn’t seem angry at all. “It is true,” she said calmly, with a defiant smirk. “All of it. And there is nothing you can do to stop me. You’re going to die a meaningless death, Rhaenys. I lied to you earlier, about sharing the same fate with your uncle… No, you’re going to share the same fate with your mother.”

She wanted the Mountain to rape her in front of everyone.

“Cersei, please!” Tyrion pleaded. “This is madness!”

Cersei ignored them both.

Jon attempted to draw his sword, but Aegon stopped him, and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, Jon didn’t seem convinced.

“Any last words before we begin?” Cersei asked Rhaenys.

“Only one… _Dracarys_.”

The Mountain’s crimson eyes narrowed in confusion at first, but then, they widened, almost bulging from their sockets. Was it just fear, or was he still able to feel the pain, Rhaenys didn’t know. But his grip loosened, and Rhaenys pulled the burning sword out.

The Mountain became a huge ball of fire running around frantically. The Lannister guards who were waiting behind the scorpions scattered away.

“I told you I was the fire, Cersei! Did you really think you could use our weapons against us?” Rhaenys bellowed, igniting the scorpions one by one with her sword, so that it would be safe for the dragons to come.

“You have cheated!” Cersei said. “You are a witch, just like your aunt!”

Once all the seven scorpions were on fire, Rhaenys turned around and faced Cersei. “I am not a witch, Cersei. I have been chosen to fight the servants of darkness. Only light can destroy darkness.”

“You can’t frighten me with these cheap tricks.”

“This is no trick.” Aegon brought her the scabbard, then went to Tyene’s help. Rhaenys sheathed the sword, and the flames that had been spreading across the arena died out at once.

Pandemonium had broken loose among the crowd. Thankfully, Aegon and Jon had freed the girls.

“Tyene! Are you alright?” Rhaenys shouted.

Safely cradled in Aegon’s arms, Tyene nodded. Rhaenys knew Aegon would keep her safe, so her attention shifted back to Cersei. She had to find a way to kill her. If she died, the Lannister army would surrender in peace.

“Well, Prince Oberyn would be proud…” Tyrion said, looking at the Mountain’s scorched corpse, now lying on the ground, lifeless.

Cersei jumped to her feet and looked at the guards. “What are you waiting for? Kill them!”

Rhaenys drew Dragonspawn again, and waited.

Most of the guards were too busy trying to keep the crazed mob away from Cersei. And the Queensguard apparently didn’t want to go anywhere near Rhaenys’ sword.

“I’ll burn this city to the ground if you betray me!” Cersei threatened them this time. None of them moved. She then turned to Ser Jaime. “Give me your sword, I’ll do it myself!”

_She really has gone mad_ , Rhaenys thought.

She tried to take Ser Jaime’s sword from its scabbard, but he didn’t let her. She attempted to take someone else’s sword this time, but Ser Jaime wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back.

“Let me go!” she cried. “Cowards! Traitors! I’ll burn them all!”

“ _Burn them all_?”

“Jaime? Jaime, what are you doing?”

His left hand had closed around her throat, and was squeezing the life out of her.

Rhaenys looked at the people around her. They were all staring at the golden twins, frozen in shock. Rhaenys had thought of turning Ser Jaime against his sister by using Myrcella once, but even she hadn’t imagined it could end like this.

“I’m keeping my oath,” Ser Jaime replied. “To Lady Catelyn. To Prince Rhaegar.”

Cersei’s lips moved, but Rhaenys couldn’t hear what she was saying anymore.

“No, Cersei,” Ser Jaime said. “ _You_ killed our children. You killed Tommen. You killed Myrcella. You killed Joffrey. And now I’m going to kill you.”

And just like her father, Queen Cersei died in the hands of a Lannister. But this time, the lion’s legacy died along with her.


	25. Worse Than Death

The Mountain was dead. Well, apparently he had been dead since Tyene’s father killed him, but this time, he wasn’t coming back. Rhaenys had seen to it.

Ser Jaime ordered the guards to open the gates for Daenerys Stormborn’s army. Then Lord Tyrion took him to the Red Keep.

Arya looked at Tyene, and her cousins; they were returning to the Keep as well. Aegon had scooped her into his arms, for she was too weak to walk on her own. Cersei had been starving her for days. She could barely keep her eyes open, but she winked at Arya when their eyes met, and made a feeble attempt to smile. Arya smiled back at her.

“Arya?” Jon whispered. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“No.”

He looked at the dirty rags she was wearing, took off his fur coat, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Only then, Arya realized how cold it was. She hardly noticed such slight discomforts after everything she had been through in Braavos.

“Come, little sister,” Jon said, ruffling her hair. “Let’s go with them.”

Arya took his hand and set off. The people who had been spitting at them only half an hour ago were now cheering for them. She didn’t care. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her, except for Jon. Once they were alone, Jon was going to want to know what had happened to his _little sister_. She wasn’t No One anymore, but she hadn’t really been Arya Stark of Winterfell since she had returned to Westeros either, not until she was reunited with him.

He looked different from what she remembered. He had always been solemn and guarded, but now he seemed much older than he actually was. He had scars around his eyes. He had a Valyrian steel sword, with a direwolf’s head for a pommel. The direwolf sigil was engraved on his armor as well. He also wore his hair differently, but Arya liked it better. He looked even more like their father this way. Winterfell was still so far away, but now that Jon was here, she was home again, even in the middle of this madness.

Once they were back in the throne room, Jon grabbed Rhaenys by her shoulders harshly and shook her. Arya was shocked to see Jon, who wouldn’t even curse in the presence of a woman, like this. She wondered why he was so angry. After all, Cersei and the Mountain were dead, thanks to Rhaenys’ help. And she had even proven their father’s innocence. Everyone knew that he had never been a traitor. Cersei had admitted the truth.

“You lied to us!” he said, fuming.

“Did I?” she asked calmly, and gestured her man to stand down. Arya realized everyone in the room was ready to fight. Even Aegon, who had been carrying Tyene in his arms, had placed her on the floor, and was ready to draw his sword.

“You were never planning to die. You lied because you wanted to kill the Mountain yourself. With that sword. What is that thing, anyway?”

“It is my destiny. And my burden to bear. You don’t need to concern yourself with it.”

“What if you had failed?”

“I knew I wouldn’t. You have so little faith for someone who…” She sighed, and looked at Arya. “Well, I suppose you two have so much to talk about.”

For a short second, Arya saw panic in Jon’s eyes. He must have realized Rhaenys knew something she wasn’t supposed to know.

“Come, Arya.”

Jon walked past the Iron Throne, into the Small Council chamber, and Arya followed her, but she didn’t think he knew where he was going.

“Where are we going, Jon?” she asked.

Jon paused. “I don’t know.”

Arya chuckled, and decided to lead him to the Small Hall, where Syrio used to teach her the Water Dance. There, they were going to have enough privacy.

…

The worst part of being Arya Stark was that people had started calling her a lady again. Only, this time Arya felt like they were doing it out of fear, not because they expected her to wear pretty dresses and make curtsies. Cersei hadn’t been able to prove that Arya was a Faceless Man, yet people somehow knew that she was someone to be feared. She hoped that Rhaenys had only been joking about her being a princess just because Jon was the King in the North.

Jon was unquestionably a king, though. He was more of a king than Joffrey, or even Robert Baratheon could have ever been. They had spent their first night together at the Red Keep telling each other what they had been through, but after that, Jon barely had time to see her. He was so preoccupied with his duties, with planning the war against the army of the dead beyond the Wall that Arya sometimes missed the times he was simply the Bastard of Winterfell.

She was thinking about those simpler—and happier—times as she watched the three dragons soaring above the buildings in the distance when someone knocked on her door.

“Arya?” Jon’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Come in, Jon.”

Jon slowly entered the room and closed the door behind him. Arya smiled. He was holding Needle in his hands. Arya had thought it would be useless after the Mountain had snapped it in half, but it had been reforged.

Jon smiled, too. “Try not to lose it again.”

She took the sword from him. “It looks as good as new,” she said, examining the skinny blade with her fingers.

“Unfortunately, it’s not.”

“What?”

“The blacksmith says the steel has been weakened.”

Arya’s smile disappeared.

“We’ll get you a new sword, don’t worry. You’ll still be able to stick them with the pointy end.”

“It won’t be the same,” Arya said, placing Needle on the desk carefully, as if it were made of glass. Of course she wanted a new sword she could use properly, but it wasn’t going to be as special as Needle. For some reason, it bothered her more than it should.

“No, it won’t…”

“Why did you give me a sword before we left Winterfell?” she suddenly asked.

“I knew you liked swords.”

“But did you know that I was going to use it? To kill people, I mean.”

“No, Arya… I’d never thought you would actually kill someone. Ever.”

“You told me to stick them with the pointy end.”

 “It was a joke! Look, Arya, I gave you a sword because I knew you wanted one,  and I also knew no one else was going to give it to you. Not Robb, not Bran, not even Father… And certainly not Lady Catelyn.”

“When will we go home?”

“Soon.”

“What do you think Sansa will do when she sees me?”

“I think she will be very happy.”

“I was awful to her…”

“You were children, Arya. We all were. Things are different now.”

“Yes, they are… You say she is the reason Littlefinger has declared for House Stark.”

“So?”

“I don’t like that man.”

“Neither does Sansa. And neither do I. But we need _everyone_ for this war, Arya. I told you.”

“I don’t like the Dragon Queen either.”

“Why?”

“What will the Northern lords do once you bend the knee?”

“Daenerys will earn their respect. She will fight for them.”

“What if they still don’t want her?”

“I don’t know, Arya.”

“They might rebel against you…”

“If that happens, I leave the North. Sansa bends the knee, and becomes the Wardeness of the North. She is a Stark. Even if she bends the knee, the Northern lords will still have to follow her.”

Arya’s heart jumped. “Where will you go, though?”

“To Essos, probably. I can’t go back to the Wall. Perhaps I’ll become a sellsword, I don’t know.”

“Why does she want to rule the North, anyway? Why can’t she just leave us be?” Arya cried.

“Calm down, Arya.”

“I can get rid of her for you, you know…”

Jon’s eyes widened. “Arya, no…”

“Why?” she insisted.

“I told you, we need everyone. Daenerys has the largest army in the realm right now. Who will command the Unsullied and the Dothraki if she dies?”

He wasn’t lying. But there was more. It wasn’t the only reason Jon wanted the Dragon Queen alive. There was something Jon wasn’t telling Arya.

“You can’t just kill everyone you don’t like,” he went on. “I don’t like Littlefinger, I don’t like Rhaenys either, but I’m not trying to kill them, because I need their help.”

“Why do you not like Rhaenys?”

“Well, he lied to us about that sword. She said she was going to sacrifice herself to reveal what the Mountain had become. That woman keeps too many secrets, Arya. I know you think she is Queen Nymeria reborn, but she is not. She is not very different from Littlefinger, if you ask me.”

Arya grimaced. “She is not like Littlefinger!”

Jon chuckled, and placed a kiss on her forehead. “You need better friends, little sister.”

Arya sighed, wondering what Jon would think of another one of his friends, Jaqen H’ghar, if he were here. He probably wouldn’t be pleased.

“Well, I should get going.”

“What are you going to do today?”

“We’ll start loading the wildfire beneath the city to the ships and send them to the North.”

“That sounds dangerous…”

“Aye, but the guards will be really careful. We’ll take our time.”

“Good.”

Jon ruffled her hair. “Try not to get into any trouble.”

“I won’t.”

After Jon left, Arya decided to visit Tyene. And later, she could spar with Rhaenys, unless she was too busy, like Jon. Tyene, too, had a bedchamber here, at Maegor’s Holdfast. They had had to give her moon tea the other day, for Rhaenys’ maester had confirmed that a man’s seed had taken root in her womb. They didn’t know whose seed it was; Cersei had forced so many men to rape her. Poor Tyene had cried in pain for hours until she was completely free from the unborn, unwanted babe in her womb. Arya had watched people being tortured to death. She had washed dead bodies, cut off their faces, and wore them. She had carved her enemies and baked them into a pie. Yet, somehow, watching Tyene bleed like that was more disturbing than any of those things.

Tyene looked up from the book she had been reading and smiled when Arya entered her bedchamber. She was surrounded by her family as usual: Her cousins, Rhaenys and Aegon; her sister, Sarella, and a friend of theirs, Daemon Sand.

Arya looked at the book lying open on her lap and grimaced. _The Seven-Pointed Star_. Septa Mordane used to read Arya and Sansa passages from that book all the time. Tyene had told her that she wasn’t really pious, but her mother was a septa—a soiled septa, apparently—and she would read her from the _Seven-Pointed Star_ when Tyene was a little girl _._ She claimed that the book now helped her find some comfort after everything she had been through.

“Arya! You look lovely today.”

“Thank you,” she said, puzzled. She was wearing her usual brown leather tunic and a pair of breeches. She had let the handmaiden brush her hair, but left it undone. There was no reason for her to look _lovely_. Well, Tyene was probably just trying to be sweet…

“Will you tell Rhaenys something?” she complained. “She won’t let me come to the North with you. She is sending me back to Sunspear!”

Rhaenys sighed. “I told you, Tyene. It is too dangerous. Besides, your mother is waiting for you in Dorne.”

“But you are taking Sarella with you!”

“Only because we need her knowledge.”

“Well, I can help you poison the White Walkers.”

Sarella laughed. “Sister, I don’t think your poisons will work on them.”

“Still, it is not fair.”

“You can come visit me once winter is over,” Arya suggested. “Besides, it will be much warmer in the spring.”

Tyene relented.

“Your sword,” Arya told Rhaenys. “Why did you lie to Jon about your sword?”

Rhaenys smiled, as if she had been expecting this question. “Your brother thinks I lied because I wanted the glory of killing the Mountain for myself. But the truth is, Arya, I am the only one who can command this sword. I wish I weren’t, but I am.”

“Why? Because you are a Targaryen?”

“I am not a Targaryen. Not anymore.”

She unsheathed Dragonspawn, and gave it to Aegon without a word.

Aegon raised the sword. “ _Dracarys_!”

Nothing happened.

He then passed it to Arya.

“Go on,” Rhaenys urged her. “You know what to do.”

She looked at the sword. It was a longsword, but the blade was more slender, just like Dark Sister was said to be.

“ _Dracarys_!” she said.

Again, nothing happened, and she returned the sword to Rhaenys.

“What is this?”

“A Lightbringer. Jon Snow is an honorable man, like your father, and I respect him deeply, but honorable men are usually terrible liars. Dragonspawn was the only weapon that could kill the Mountain, I had to protect its secret. That’s why I lied to Jon.”

Arya nodded. Rhaenys wasn’t lying.

“Beric Dondarrion had a flaming sword, too,” she remembered. He and Thoros of Myr were still on her list for what they had done to Gendry. She wasn’t sure about the Red Woman, though. She had brought Jon back from the dead, but Arya didn’t know what she had done to Gendry. Had she killed him?

Rhaenys raised her eyebrows. “Like this one?”

“No. Not like this one.”

_“This is no trick,”_ Rhaenys had told Cersei before sheathing Dragonspawn and extinguishing the flames. Arya didn’t think Beric’s sword could do that.

A knock on the door interrupted them. “Prince Aegon?”

“Yes?”

A Dornish spearman opened the door. “My prince, Daenerys Stormborn’s prisoners will be executed tomorrow. Qyburn, the chainless maester, is among them. His last request is to speak with you.”

“Speak with me? About what?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Don’t go, Aegon,” Rhaenys said warily. “He will probably try to poison you with his lies.”

“I know. Still, I want to hear what he has to say."

“I can help you, if you want,” Arya suggested. “I can tell if someone is telling the truth, or lying.”

“Is that something you learned in the House of Black and White?” Aegon asked her. He had formally introduced himself to Arya after the trial, but he had never spoken directly to her again since then.

“Yes.”

“Thank you, but there is no need for—“

“I think that’s a great idea,” Rhaenys said firmly, and gave her brother a meaningful look.

Aegon relented. “Very well, then. Let’s go.”

They set off to the dungeons together. Arya hadn’t thought much about her list since she was reunited with Jon. She was now able to sleep without saying the names. But now, she tried to remember how many people were going to be executed tomorrow. She knew that Lord Tyrion had convinced the Dragon Queen to spare his brother’s life. Arya wasn’t sure how to feel about it. She now knew that it was Ser Jaime who had tried to kill Bran, but there was also the fact that Ser Jaime had protected Arya from getting raped and tortured… She was having the same struggle she had had about killing the Hound. Eventually, she decided that she wasn’t going to kill Ser Jaime herself, but if someone else tried to kill him, she wasn’t going to stop them either.

There were several others who had refused to bend the knee to the Dragon Queen. Ilyn Payne was among them. Ilyn Payne… Another name on her list. The one who had executed her father. And he had to be somewhere in the dungeons now, waiting to be killed…

“May I ask you a question, Arya?” Aegon’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Rhaenys told me that you have been trained in Water Dancing by Syrio Forel. Do you know where Syrio is right now?”

“He is dead. Ser Meryn Trant killed him.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Was Syrio your friend?” Arya knew that Syrio had been to Dorne to train Rhaenys once, but she didn’t know he and Aegon were friends. In fact, she didn’t know much about Aegon. Tyene had said that he was quite reserved, and could be very cold and distanced around strangers. She had also said he was a talented warrior, and an equally talented sorcerer.

“He was.”

“I killed Meryn Trant.”

His face softened. “That’s good to know.”

They were in the dungeons now. A guard led them into Qyburn’s cell. The chainless maester looked at Arya first, but didn’t say anything.

“You wanted to see me,” Aegon said. “Why?”

“I was just curious, Prince Aegon… Who did your sister kill for that sword?”

Aegon’s violet eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why do you want to know that?”

“ _Lightbringer_ … That’s how the followers of R’hllor call it, right? A curious choice of name for something that will only bring misery and a horrible death.”

“I have no love for R’hllor, or his followers. Only a fool would expect salvation from a god who demands innocent blood.”

R’hllor… That was another name for the Lord of Light. The one the Red Woman and the Brotherhood worshiped. Arya wasn’t sure why, but she was suddenly relieved to hear that Aegon had no love for the Lord of Light.

“I know,” Qyburn said calmly. “We are on the same side, Prince Aegon.”

“ _On the same side_? You were Cersei’s most loyal servant!”

“Cersei’s most loyal servant?” he scoffed. “After everything I’ve been through at Harrenhal?”

“What happened at Harrenhal?”

“Ser Gregor and his men happened.” He looked at Arya again. “It was your brother who found me, in fact. His wife said I was lucky to be alive… _Lucky_!”

Arya knew what he meant. She, too, had been at Harrenhal and saw what the Mountain and his men did to people.

“Why did you save the Mountain’s life, then?” Arya asked. “Are you mad? You could’ve just let him die!”

“Aye, I could have. But all men must die, Arya Stark. That’s why some men deserve worse than death. I had turned him into my puppet, my slave. He hated it, but there was nothing he could do about it. Princess Rhaenys did that monster a favor when she killed him.”

“If you have no loyalty to the Lannisters, why do you refuse to bend the knee?” Aegon asked.

He shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

“I think we are done here.”

“One last thing, Prince Aegon… Stygai. You’ll find the Great Other in Stygai.”

“I thought the Night King was the Great Other.”

“Oh, no… The Night King is just a pawn. A foot soldier.”

Aegon stormed out of the cell without saying anything else. Arya went after him.

“Was he telling the truth?” he asked her after the guard locked Qyburn’s cell again.

“He was. Well, at least he believed what he said.”

“Look, Arya, I know you and my sister are friends, but please don’t tell her what Qyburn just told us. She has made a terrible sacrifice to be able to kill the Mountain, I don’t want her to think she might have actually done him a favor.”

“Alright, I won’t tell her.” Arya didn’t think what Qyburn had done to the Mountain was worse than death, anyway. Nothing could be better, or worse than death.

“Thank you.”

“Where is Ilyn Payne?” she asked the guards.

“Over there, my lady.”

“I wish to speak with him.”

The guard hesitated for a second, but then, chose one of the many keys hanging from his belt, and unlocked a door at the far end of the narrow corridor. Aegon remained still until Arya gestured him to follow her.

Ser Ilyn Payne was exactly as she remembered; cruel, stern and quiet. The Mad King had had his tongue removed; of course he had refused to bend the knee to his daughter. But Ilyn Payne was not Daenerys’ to punish.

“Aegon, can I borrow your sword?” she asked calmly. She had left Needle in her chambers.

Without a word, Aegon unsheathed his sword, and gave it to Arya.

“This is Blackfyre, isn’t it? The Conqueror’s sword?”

“It is.”

“My father had a Valyrian steel sword as well,” she told Ser Ilyn, testing Blackfyre’s balance. It was a bastard sword, like Longclaw. Arya had never used such a big sword before, but it was actually lighter than she had thought. “Ice. You used it to chop my father’s head off. I was there, among the crowd. None of you saw me. Well, I suppose this is fitting…”

Ilyn Payne didn’t try to escape. He was just sitting on the filthy dungeon floor, like an ugly, stone statue. Arya hadn’t expected him to cry for mercy, like Meryn Trant and Walder Frey had, anyway. With a single, clean stroke, she cut off his head, and returned Blackfyre to Aegon.

The guard frowned when he saw Ser Ilyn’s beheaded corpse lying on the floor. “The Queen won’t like this, Lady Arya.”

“She is not _my_ queen,” Arya said dryly and walked away.

…

Indeed, Arya was summoned to the throne room at midday. Daenerys hadn’t had a coronation yet—Jon said she wanted to crown herself as the Queen of all the seven kingdoms, not just the three of them—but she was sitting on the Iron Throne nevertheless. Jon, Lord Tyrion, and Ser Jorah were there as well.

She gave Arya a thoughtful, assessing look. “You killed one of my prisoners… Why?”

“Ilyn Payne. He was on my list,” Arya replied defiantly.

“Your list?”

“Of the people I’m going to kill.”

The Dragon Queen smiled. “Am I on that list as well?”

“Not yet.”

“Ilyn Payne wasn’t yours to kill, Arya Stark.”

“Your Grace, he was going to die anyway,” Jon defended her. “You wanted to execute him because he refused to bend the knee. My sister had to watch him behead our father. If killing him helped her find some peace, then I’m glad she did it.”

“If she’d had the grace to ask me first, I would’ve gladly let her do it. I wouldn’t have denied Arya her revenge.”

“You’re not my queen, why should I have asked you?”

“Because you are under my roof. You are my guest. If we were at Winterfell, and I killed one of Jon’s prisoners without his permission, how would you feel about it?”

“I think Arya understands her mistake,” Jon said quickly before Arya could reply.

“I don’t want to be your enemy, Arya. In fact, I respect you deeply. Do you hate me because I want your brother to bend the knee?” she asked softly.

“Why do you even want to rule the North, _Your Grace_?” Arya asked darkly. “What is it to you? You don’t know the land, you don’t know the people… Yet you want it. You just want more soldiers to fight your wars.”

Daenerys looked at Ser Jorah. “Do you know who this is?”

“Ser Jorah Mormont of the Bear Island.”

“Indeed he is. And he has been by my side longer than anybody else. He was there when I married my first husband. He was there when I lost him, and my unborn son. He was there when my dragons were born. He was there when I led my people across the red waste. He was there when I conquered Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. And all those years, we prayed for home together. You’re right, Arya. I’ve never been to the North. But I know at least one Northerner. And I know how much the North means to him.”

“I’m not the one you need to convince,” she said coldly and stormed out of the throne room. She was angry. And scared. She had lost her family, her home because of a queen once. She was scared that the same would happen again, this time with another queen.

“Arya, wait!” Jon shouted after her.

“What? Is Her Grace not done with me yet?”

“I told you not to get yourself into trouble, did I not?” he asked, but he didn’t seem angry at all.

Arya shrugged.

“A raven came from Winterfell.”

“From Sansa?”

“Yes. Bran has returned.”

“What?” she gasped. Bran… Bran wasn’t dead. He was back at Winterfell right now.

“Jon, can we go home now? Please?”

“I told you, Arya. I can’t.”

“Daenerys can send her father’s wildfire to the North without your help.”

Jon didn’t reply, but the look on his face gave Arya all the answers she needed.

“You don’t have to stay… You want to stay.” Arya knew why Jon was so protective of Daenerys. She knew why he had agreed to bend the knee. She always had. But she had been too stubborn to admit it. “You love her.”

“Arya, I don’t—“

“It’s alright,” she forced herself to say.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked in a small voice, like a little boy who was afraid to be scolded by his parents.

“I’m not _mad_.”

He chuckled. “You’re jealous, then.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t lose me, Arya. I promise.”

Arya flung her arms around Jon again and kissed his cheek. Hers was a very childish envy, she knew. But Jon was a part of her childhood. The last part of her childhood, in fact. Now it was gone. He belonged to somebody else.

Was he going to marry her? She didn’t ask. She was so scared to hear the answer. If he married her, then he was going to have to live here. _He belongs at Winterfell, with us._ King’s Landing was a place for the likes of Cersei and Littlefinger. And if he didn’t marry her… A queen needed a king. She was going to marry someone else, then and Jon’s heart would be broken. Not sure which future was worse, Arya released him and set off to the godswood.

She wasn’t here to pray to the Old Gods. She hadn’t prayed them since Syrio Forel had told her that there was only one god. She just wanted to be alone.

She stood there, and watched the Blackwater Bay for hours, thinking of home. It had been more than a fortnight since Cersei’s death, and Arya didn’t think they would be leaving anytime soon. All because of that damnable wildfire… But they needed it if they wanted to destroy the Night King’s army.

“Arya?”

When she turned around to look, she saw Aegon, standing under the heart tree.

“Aegon? What are you doing here?”

“I can leave if you are at prayer…”

“No, I wasn’t praying. I just didn’t expect to see anyone here.”

“I was actually here to see you. I’m leaving for the North tomorrow, with Viserion. Would you like to come with me?”

“What?” Arya asked, taken aback by the sudden offer. “Why are you going to the North?”

“Someone needs to discuss our war plans here with the Northern lords, and the Night’s Watch. I know what they say about your people. _The North remembers_ , right? I might have renounced the Targaryen name, but in their eyes, I am probably still one. It would be easier for them to trust Rhaegar’s son if a Stark vouched for me.”

“Can you blame them after what Rhaegar did to my aunt?”

“What do you think he did to her?” he asked with a sad smile.

“He kidnapped her. Then he raped her, and locked her up in a tower. That’s all I know.”

“Arya… My father was a fool, and an oathbreaker. But he wasn’t a rapist. If I thought he was, I wouldn’t deny it, believe me.”

He wasn’t lying. But this was only what Aegon had chosen to believe, not the truth itself. “Then why did she die?”

“I wish I knew, Arya.”

Arya looked at him. It would take about a moon’s turn to travel from King’s Landing to Winterfell on horseback. On dragonback… She wasn’t sure, but it would probably only take a few days. In a few days, she could be home. She could see Sansa and Bran. She could visit her father’s tomb in the crypts. But leaving Jon was hard.

“Whatever Rhaegar did to her, I don’t blame you for it. But you’re right, some Northern lords will.”

“So, will you be coming with me?”

“I don’t want to leave Jon.”

“Well, I don’t want to leave my sister either. Especially with Daenerys. I heard she wasn’t very happy about what you did to Ilyn Payne.”

“No, but I think she likes me.”

“Good.”

Arya was surprised to hear that. “I thought you hated each other.”

She knew that he was once supposed to marry Daenerys. But she had refused him, and Aegon had renounced his claim in order not to become a kinslayer, and become his sister’s bannerman instead, because she was his elder and her claim to Queen Nymeria’s throne was stronger. It was something not many brothers would do.

“Look, Arya, I know we didn’t tell you good things about Daenerys, but mayhaps we shouldn’t have. If she likes you, try not to make an enemy of her.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Of course you can, but she won’t challenge you to a duel if you give her a reason to punish you. Her methods are… different.”

“Different how?”

“She can force you to marry a man you don’t want, for example.”

“No, she can’t!”

“If you disobey her, Jon and Lady Sansa will suffer the consequences. You don’t look like someone who would let that happen. Once Jon bends the knee, you can’t disobey your queen’s command.”

Arya’s heart jumped. Could Daenerys really do that?

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Aegon said quickly. “But I know Daenerys better than anyone else here. You need to understand what she is capable of.”

“Is that what she did to Rhaenys?”

Aegon looked at the heart tree, which was an oak, not a weirwood, with a face almost as stern as his.

“Hasn’t Rhaenys told you?”

“No.”

“Then it is not for me to tell. If you change your mind, meet me at the Dragonpit tomorrow, at first light. If not… Farewell, Arya Stark.”

...

Arya woke up an hour before sunrise. When she looked out of the window, she realized that winter had finally come to King’s Landing. The entire city had been blanketed in snow overnight. It was a beautiful scene, but it also meant that their journey to Winterfell was going to take even longer. So, she made up her mind.

Hoping that Aegon hadn’t left yet, she gathered her belongings, left a note for Jon, and set off to the Dragonpit.

All was quiet, save for the snow crunching under her feet. Arya had seen the dragons before, of course, but not been near one yet. The city had surrendered peacefully, so Daenerys, Aegon, and Rhaenys hadn’t used them, but Daenerys had arrived on the black of the black-and-red dragon, the largest one. Arya hadn’t seen them much afterwards. Jon had said they had a lair somewhere in the kingswood.

Curled up on a dais in the middle of the ruined vault, Viserion was asleep. Not sure if it was a good idea to sneak up on a sleeping dragon, Arya decided to sit at the top of the stairs that surrounded the dais and watched the sky above brighten with every passing minute.

“I am glad you came.”

Aegon was here.

“Well, you’re going to need my help if you want to earn the trust of the Northern lords.”

Aegon smiled, but the pain in his violet eyes remained. “Thanks, Arya.”

Upon Aegon’s arrival, Viserion opened his eyes, which were two pools of molten gold, growled, and stretched his cream wings. Suddenly, Aegon stopped in his tracks, and looked around.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing. I just… I had never seen snow before.”

_Right_ , Arya thought. Arya was a child of summer, but in the North, there were the summer snows, and she had grown up knowing one day winter would come, and once it did, the lone wolf would die, but the pack would survive.

“It will be even colder up there,” he said, as he descended the steps together. “I hope you have dressed warm enough.”

“Don’t worry, I have.”


	26. Dark Sister

Arya and Aegon went to Riverrun first, to convince Uncle Edmure to send his armies to the North. Uncle Edmure was reluctant at first, saying that his armies were already dispersed after years of war, but his wife, Roslin Frey, told him that he was only the Lord of Riverrun again thanks to Arya, and he owed her a debt. Later that night, Roslin came to visit Arya in the guest chambers and threw herself at Arya’s feet, and begged her to spare her and her son’s life. _“I was powerless to stop the Red Wedding,”_ she cried. Arya could see that her regret was genuine, and she promised Roslin that she would never harm her or the child.

They spent the second night at Moat Cailin, which was abandoned, just like it had been when she and Sansa had traveled to the South with their father. Arya couldn’t sleep much, but the howling of the storm wasn’t what kept her awake that night. Aegon had said they would be at Winterfell tomorrow. Restless with excitement, Arya gave up on the idea of sleeping and decided to take a walk around the abandoned stronghold instead. They were staying in the Gatehouse Tower; the only tower that still stood straight, with tall walls around it to shelter them from the snowstorm outside. She decided to climb to the top of the tower. Aegon was awake, too, and he was scanning the horizon anxiously, although there wasn’t much to see

“Viserion has gone hunting,” he explained. “I don’t know if he can return here in this weather.”

She thought of Nymeria. The direwolf might not be a pet anymore, but she was still hers, and of the North. She would survive the winter with her pack. But there was also a dragon out there, hunting…

“What is it?”

“Do dragons eat wolves?”

“They eat anything when they are hungry. Why?”

“Nymeria… She is somewhere in the riverlands, with her pack. I met her on my way to King’s Landing. Can you tell your dragon not to harm any wolves?”

“Dragons are not pets, Arya. I will tell Viserion that the wolves are our friends. But I can’t make any promises.”

“Thanks.”

She had thought the mention of a direwolf named for the famous warrior queen of the Rhoynar would make him smile, but it didn’t. Then, she remembered that her direwolf wasn’t the only one who had been named after Queen Nymeria.

“Where do you think Euron Greyjoy has gone?”

“Who knows? He is said to have sailed all the way to Asshai, and even walked the smoking ruins of Valyria. A man like Euron Greyjoy can be anywhere right now.”

Even Aegon himself might not be aware of that, but Arya was certain that there was a hint of envy in his voice.

“Would you like to be like him?”

“A pirate?”

“No, not a pirate. An adventurer.”

“I think I would.”

“But you can go anywhere in the world, too. You don’t have to be the captain of a ship. You have a dragon.”

He smiled. “Where would _you_ go, if you had a dragon?”

Arya remembered the last conversation she had had with Lady Crane in Braavos. “I’d like to see the edge of the world.”

“That was my dream as a child… To be an adventurer.”

“What happened to that dream?”

“I learned that I had a family to avenge. And a throne to take.”

“Right… That was a stupid question.”

“Syrio Forel was the first foreigner I had met. There was Areo Hotah, of course, the captain of the guards. He had come from Norvos with Aunt Mellario. But he had become a part of Dorne by the time I was born, I never saw him as a foreigner. I thought I could meet more people like Syrio if I became an adventurer.”

“You said Syrio was your friend. But he trained Rhaenys in Water Dancing?”

“Well, I learned from him, too, but Rhaenys was always better. You can’t blame Syrio for favoring her.”

“And you’ve never been jealous of her?” Arya asked in disbelief. Indeed, she had sparred with Rhaenys several times, and she was the most enjoyable sparring mate Arya had ever met.

“Why would I be jealous of my sister?” he asked, obviously confused.

“Well, most men would.”

“Then most men are fools.”

“You remind me of Jon.”

He laughed. “King Jon might not be happy to hear that.”

“It’s not easy for him to trust people again after what happened at the Wall…” she murmured.

Aegon became serious again. “I know. Returning from the dead… It can’t be easy for anyone.”

“How do you know that he…”

“The Red Woman told me and Rhaenys. But don’t worry, we respect Jon’s wish to keep this a secret. We won’t tell anyone.”

“That witch was on my list. She killed a friend of mine.”

“And she also brought your brother back from the dead… What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. What about you? Why do you hate this Lord of Light and his followers?”

“Because he is not a benevolent god as some might believe. Do you know that I once asked Daenerys’ hand in marriage?”

Arya nodded. She wasn’t sure why, but she had become so upset the first time she had heard some servant girls at the Red Keep whispering about it. She didn't like the idea of Jon marrying her because he would no longer be able to live at Winterfell with them, but she didn't know why she was glad that Daenerys had refused Aegon.

“Well, that was a grave mistake. Daenerys should have been the one to come to me, not the other way around. But the High Priestess in Volantis told me that I had to go to the Mother of Dragons, or everyone in the realm was going to die because of my pride. It was a lie, of course, but I let her deceive me.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have. R’hllor’s followers practice blood magic. It is no better than necromancy, if you ask me. Never trust those who practice blood magic, Arya.”

“I won’t,” she said, and started cleaning Needle. Well, it was already clean, but she wanted to do something that would keep her busy. She felt like she needed an excuse to stay here, with Aegon.

Befriending Tyene and Rhaenys had been easy. They were both friendly people, and they had so much in common with Arya. Aegon, on the other hand, had always been more distanced. But now, she felt like she was finally allowed to meet the real Aegon. And she enjoyed his company. House Martell was the most interesting Westerosi family she had ever seen, and Aegon could be the most interesting member of that family. When she asked him a question, he always answered it with honesty, yet it somehow made him even more mysterious.

“I heard Jaime Lannister offered you his sword. Why didn’t you accept it?” he asked.

Indeed, Ser Jaime had offered her Widow’s Wail, but Arya had refused. “I didn’t want it.”

“Why? It was made from your family’s ancestral sword. It would be the most fitting if you wielded it.”

Arya shrugged. “But it wasn’t Ice anymore. I know Valyrian steel is rare, but I didn’t want to have something that was once Joffrey’s. And I didn’t want the blade that had taken my father’s life.”

Aegon went to rekindle the fire that had nearly died out.

“Where is Stygai?” Arya suddenly asked. She didn’t remember any place that was called Stygai in any of the maps she had studied. But Aegon had seemed like he knew what Qyburn was talking about when he had told him to go there. And Arya was curious.

“A haunted corpse city in the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. Some call it the heart of darkness. Even shadowbinders fear it.”

“Will you go there?” she asked, hoping the answer would be a no.

“I can’t. The Great War is upon us, and I am one of the three dragon riders. I have to stay here.”

“And after the war?”

“I don’t think I will survive the war, Arya.”

“Why?” Arya had thought a dragon rider would be quite safe while fighting the army of the dead. All he had to do was to fly his dragon above the dead and burn them. He didn’t even have to use his sword.

He took out a small vial out of his pouch. “Do you know what this is?”

“No.”

“Shade of the evening… It is usually consumed by the warlocks of Qarth, but I found this while searching Euron’s ship. It can show me what I need to know about Stygai, or… It can show me things I don’t want to see.”

“How do you know all of these? Have you ever been to Qarth? Or the Shadow Lands?”

“I haven’t been to any place beyond Meereen. You should get some sleep, Arya. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Arya understood that he wanted to be left alone. His voice still echoed in her head as she descended the stairs, though. _“I don’t think I will survive the war, Arya.”_

…

Viserion had returned by the time Arya woke up. She and Aegon decided not to waste any time and climbed on his back after breaking their fast. At midday, the dragon landed in front of the main gates of Winterfell. Some people had gathered on the battlements to take a closer look at the dragon.

Arya was trying to decide what to tell the guards as they walked toward the gates, but she didn’t have to say anything at all.

“Welcome home, m’lady,” the guards said, and opened the gates for them.

Winterfell was as beautiful as she remembered. Sansa was standing in the middle of the snow-covered courtyard, with Bran sitting in a wooden rolling chair beside her.

“Arya!” she cried and Arya found herself in her elder sister’s arms. She was even taller now, and had the body of a woman grown. When Arya closed her eyes, it was so easy to pretend like she was being held by her mother. She had always been a disappointment to Lady Catelyn, and to Sansa. But now, Sansa didn’t even seem to care what Arya had become. She didn’t seem disgusted, or horrified. Did that mean their mother wouldn’t care either if she were here? After all, Sansa was their mother’s daughter.

“I missed you, Arya.”

“I missed you, too.”

Sansa released her, and she went to hug Bran this time. Bran hugged her back, but didn’t say anything. She then remembered that she should probably introduce Aegon.

“Sansa, this is Aegon Martell, the Prince of Storm’s End. He and his sister have agreed to help Jon.”

Sansa nodded at him with a polite, but distanced smile. “Welcome to Winterfell, Prince Aegon.”

“Thank you, Lady Stark.”

Arya frowned. Neither Sansa nor Bran seemed surprised to see Arya, but they didn’t even seem surprised by Aegon’s presence, or even the fact that they had arrived on the back of a fucking dragon.

“Were you expecting us?”

Sansa hesitated, and looked at Bran, but he only nodded. “It’s alright. Prince Aegon will understand. He has visions, too.”

“Arya, Bran has visions now,” Sansa elaborated. “He told me you would be here at midday. So, yes, we were expecting you.”

“Visions of what?”

“The past, the present, and the future. I’m the three-eyed raven.”

“Where did you learn to be the three-eyed raven?” Arya asked curiously.

“Beyond the Wall. Come, Arya. There is something I want to show you.”

Arya looked at Sansa and Aegon, who had already started discussing the wagons of dragonglass that would soon arrive.

“Let’s go,” she told Bran.

They went to Bran’s chambers, where a young and very large man with dark hair was sitting among a pile of books.

“Hello,” he said timidly. “You must be Arya Stark!”

“I am. And you are…”

“Samwell Tarly. I was Jon’s friend at the Wall. I’d be dead if it hadn’t been for him.”

“Oh, I remember… Sarella told me about you.”

“Sarella?”

“Alleras. Her real name is Sarella Sand, she is one of Oberyn Martell’s daughters. I met her in King’s Landing.”

“Was Alleras a girl? I had no idea!”

“Why aren’t you at the Citadel? I thought you wanted to be a maester?”

“I did. But I couldn’t help Jon from there. Is Alle—Sarella coming to Winterfell?”

Arya nodded.

“Good,” he sighed, looking at the books around him. “She can help us.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Something that can help us defeat the army of the dead.”

“We already have dragonglass, wildfire, and three large dragons.”

Samwell’s smile disappeared. “Right, we do…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Daenerys Stormborn executed his father and brother. She burned them alive,” Bran explained.

Arya wondered if Jon knew that. Probably not.

“My father was a cruel man,” Sam said, his voice trembling. “But Dickon… Dickon was good. He didn’t deserve to die like that. I wonder how my mother and sister are doing… I wish I could visit them.”

“I’m sorry,” Arya simply said, not knowing what else to do.

 _“If you disobey her, Jon and Lady Sansa will suffer the consequences,”_ Aegon had said. Now she understood what he had meant.

“I want to give you something,” Bran said, taking out a longsword from a chest. “Here.”

“This is Rhaenys’ sword!” she gasped.

“No, this is her twin. Dark Sister. Visenya’s sword. Needle was a gift from Jon. You’re scared that it might get broken again. Use this instead. This one will never break.”

“Where did you find it?”

“The three-eyed raven gave it to me.”

“I thought you were the three-eyed raven.”

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“You should keep it.”

“I’m a cripple, Arya. A sword like this would be wasted on me.”

Arya took Dark Sister from him. It was bigger than Needle, but still much lighter than an ordinary longsword, and the slender blade was perfect for her small hands. Arya knew that it hadn’t been forged for her, but she still felt the same joy she had felt when she had been given Needle.

_Another sword, from another brother._

…

Arya left Bran and Sam with their books, and went down to the crypts. She had wanted to see what her father’s statue looked like, but now she was disappointed. It didn’t look like him at all. She then studied Aunt Lyanna’s statue. Aegon believed that Prince Rhaegar hadn’t kidnapped, or raped her. The face of her statue looked so sad, though. People said she was the most beautiful maiden in the North. But her father had once said that Arya reminded him of her. It didn’t make any sense. She was never a beauty like Sansa. If a prince wanted to steal away with a Northern maiden, he would choose Sansa, not Arya. Still, Arya wasn’t jealous of her anymore. Poor Sansa had suffered too much because of her beauty. Vicious men like Joffrey or Ramsay enjoyed hurting helpless, pretty girls. Arya had seen that sort of cruel pleasure in Meryn Trant’s eyes. When Arya had refused to cry out in pain, the pleasure had turned into anger. Men like Joffrey or Ramsay wouldn’t keep Arya around as a pet to torment. They would kill her and be done with it the moment they realized they couldn’t break her. Arya couldn’t have survived what Sansa had survived. Aunt Lyanna’s statue had the face of someone who had been through what Sansa had been through, but Arya knew that the statues here didn’t necessarily tell the truth about the dead. Perhaps she could ask Bran. If he had visions now, perhaps he could tell her the truth. He could tell them how Aunt Lyanna had really died. Still, Arya wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. The fact that her father had thought she and Lyanna had something in common unnerved her for some strange reason these days.

She decided to visit the godswood next, and found Aegon there.

“Why do you have my sister’s sword?” he asked, taken aback.

“This is Dark Sister,” she grinned. “Dragonspawn’s twin blade. Bran gave it to me.”

“I thought that sword was lost. Where did he find it?”

“Somewhere beyond the Wall, I think.”

He smiled. “It suits you.”

“Thanks. So, how do you like it here?” she asked proudly. She knew Winterfell was probably nothing like Dorne, or even Storm’s End, but this was her home, and she was hoping Aegon would find it beautiful.

“Well, it is warmer than I thought. At least inside the castle.”

“Winterfell was built over hot springs, and the scalding waters rush through its walls. That’s why the chambers are so warm, even in winter.”

“Is it true that Winterfell was built by Brandon the Builder?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“Some people don’t believe that he even existed. I wondered what the Northerners themselves thought.”

“I think my father believed,” she said, recalling a conversation they had had about Bran’s future after his fall. “He once said Bran could be a builder like Brandon the Builder. Poor Bran had always wanted to be a knight before he lost his legs.”

“Your brother is destined to be someone more than a knight, or a builder,” he said, but he spoke as if this wasn’t a good thing. “The power of seeing the past, the present, and the future…”

“He said you had visions, too.”

“Not like his. Sometimes I am able to see the future in my dreams. But I can’t control what I see.”

“Have you met Samwell? He is here, with Bran. They are studying books to find ways to defeat the army of the dead.”

“Are they? Well, mayhaps I can help them. Lady Sansa wants to hold a meeting with the Northern lords tomorrow, I have nothing better to do until then.”

“I can be of help, too.”

Arya took him to Bran’s chambers, and introduced him to Sam. Soon, Gilly—a wildling girl—and their son, Little Sam, joined them as well. They were trying to find what else they could use against the Night King and his army. Sam often complained how stupid and narrow-minded the maesters actually were. He and Sarella had both been at the Citadel to study the army of the dead, but they hadn’t been able to do it freely because of the maesters.

Gilly knew how to read and write, but she wasn’t very good at it, so she was reading a High Septon’s diary to practice while everyone else went through the other books on the myths and legends about the Long Night.

“What does _an-nul-ment_ mean?” Gilly interrupted them.

“It’s when a man sets aside his lawful wife,” Sam replied idly.

“Maynard says here that he issued an annulment for Prince… Reggar, and remarried him to someone else at the same time in a secret ceremony in Dorne.”

Everybody had stopped reading. “Gilly…” Sam whimpered. “Gilly, don’t…”

But it was too late. Aegon snatched the journal from Gilly’s hands, and read that page himself. He read it again and again, and no one spoke as he did. Even Little Sam must have felt that something was wrong, for he fell quiet.

“Did I say something wrong?” Gilly finally asked, puzzled.

“Prince Rhaegar,” Aegon said, fuming, “was my father.”

Gilly’s innocent eyes widened when she realized what she had just done. “Oh…”

“There is something else,” Bran said calmly. Did he know that this was going to happen? “Jon is not my father’s son. He is the son of Aunt Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar. And his name… His name is Aegon Targaryen.”

Aegon jumped to his feet and stormed out of the room.

Jon… Jon wasn’t her half-brother… Arya wasn’t sure how that was supposed to make her feel. Yes, Jon hated to be a bastard. But he wanted to be a Stark, not a Targaryen. And his name… Why had Rhaegar given both his sons the same name?

 _He is still our brother_ , she told herself. But then, why did she feel like Jon had suddenly been taken from her?

“Aegon was right, Arya,” Bran went on calmly. “Rhaegar didn’t kidnap, or rape Lyanna. He was good to her.”

Arya didn’t reply. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know what to think.

“Arya,” Sam said softly. “Perhaps you should go after him.”

Not sure what else to do, Arya nodded, and scrambled to her feet.

“He is in the Guest House,” Bran said as she closed his the door behind her.

Arya was running towards the Guest House now. She was sorry. She was sorry for Jon, for Aegon, for Rhaenys. For herself. She really had believed Tyene’s family could be her new friends, but she was wrong. Something terrible was going to happen because of Rhaegar’s foolishness, and Arya didn’t know if she could stop it.

She began pounding on his door. “Aegon!”

He didn’t answer, so Arya decided to barge in. The door was unlocked, but even if it weren’t, it wouldn’t stop her from entering.

Aegon had donned his armor, and was now buckling his swordbelt.

“Where are you going?”

“I am not going to kill Jon, if that’s what you want to know,” he replied curtly. “Oberyn taught me not to blame a son for his father’s sins.”

“Are you angry because you are a bastard? I thought being a bastard wasn’t a shame for the Dornishmen?”

“It is not a shame for us because we are not ashamed of passion… I was born of duty, not passion, and yet I am a bastard anyway! So, yes, I am ashamed. My mother… My mother loved him, Arya. She gave him her hand, her heart, her life… And Rhaegar… Well, I believe Samwell gave you the perfect description of an annulment. _A secret ceremony in Dorne_ … I thought it couldn’t have got any worse than that, but it had, apparently. He had given my name to his son with Lyanna. _Aegon, what better name for a king_?”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“What was he planning to do with me, my mother, my sister? You know what, I think I don’t even want to know. But Rhaenys… Gods, how am I going to tell Rhaenys?” He started pacing up and down frantically, rubbing his temples.

“I can tell her if you want.”

“No. No, it has to be me.”

He dashed past her and opened the door. Arya followed him to the courtyard.

“Open the gates!” he told the guards

Arya heard Viserion’s roar in the distance. He was coming for Aegon.

“Where are you going?” she asked again.

“I told you, I don’t blame Jon for this. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“There’s a meeting tomorrow,” she reminded him.

“Do I look like I give a fuck about any meetings? Go inside, Arya. It is freezing out here.”

Arya waited until Aegon mounted the dragon and took off. Then, she returned to her chambers and changed into a bed gown. She didn’t want to see Bran, or Sansa. All she wanted was to sleep, and forget the truth about Jon’s parentage.

…

The next day, Arya decided to attend to the meeting with the Northern lords. Her presence made them anxious, she could see it in their eyes. But it still didn’t stop them from complaining.

“The Targaryens cannot be trusted,” Lord Glover growled.

Arya clenched her fists angrily. Jon had told her that the Northern lords might turn against him just because he was going to bend the knee to the Dragon Queen. What were they going to do when they found out that Jon’s father was a Targaryen? And even if they never found out, there was no way these people would accept Daenerys Stormborn as their queen. They were too stubborn.

“Where is Prince Aegon now?” Lyanna Mormont asked. “I thought we were gathered here to speak with him.”

“He has gone to the Wall,” Bran replied.

“I asked him to speak with the new Lord Commander,” Sansa lied. Bran must have told her about Jon’s parentage.

“Forgive me, my lady, but then, why did you summon us here?”

Sansa was good at this. Arya didn’t have the patience to listen to all these people without cutting someone’s throat. After the meeting, the Lady of Winterfell dismissed everyone except Arya and Bran.

“Bran told me,” she simply said once they were alone.

“And?” Arya asked.

“Bran says he can control the dragons… How many men does Rhaenys have in her army?”

“What?” Arya snapped.

“Arya, what do you think is going to happen?” she scoffed bitterly. “I thought you were the smart one.”

“Nothing is going to happen!” Arya snapped. “Aegon said he didn’t blame Jon!”

“Aegon is his sister’s bannerman. And unless Rhaenys is infatuated with you, too—“

Arya jumped to her feet. “What did you say?”

“Oh, come now, Arya!”

“You know what, I think I still hate you!”

“Open your eyes, sister! This is the world we live in. People start rebellions, or butcher guests at weddings just because a betrothal is broken. Rhaegar _annulled_ his marriage to Aegon and Rhaenys’ mother to be able to wed Aunt Lyanna. They’re not your friends. Not after this.”

“ _Butcher guests at weddings_? So, you think Walder Frey was right to kill Robb…”

“Don’t twist my words!”

“Is she right, Bran? Will there be war?”

Bran shook his head.

“See?”

“Arya, I know Bran has powers now, but we can’t rely on visions while ruling a kingdom!”

Arya had had enough. She stormed out of the Great Hall and found herself in the courtyard, where Brienne, Podrick, and the new master-at-arms were training young children. She decided to help them.

This was how she spent the next couple of days; training children in the courtyard and sparring with Brienne. She was also trying to improve her own archery skills after the training sessions. She wasn’t as good with a bow as she was with a sword, but she was glad that she wasn’t, because it gave her a reason to keep her mind occupied. She didn’t want to think about what Sansa had said.

_“Infatuated with you.”_

Was Aegon really infatuated with her? _“I wouldn’t do that to you,”_ he had said before leaving. Was Arya the only reason he hadn’t declared war on the North? She hated Sansa. Sansa was the one who had grown up with the stupid dreams of marrying a prince and having his babies, not Arya.

But Arya hated herself even more, because deep down, a part of her secretly hoped that her stupid sister was right about Aegon’s infatuation.

…

A fortnight later, Viserion brought an unconscious Aegon back to Winterfell. Most of the guards were too afraid to approach the dragon, so Arya, Brienne, and Podrick took him from his back, and carried him to the Guest House. Maester Wolkan examined him carefully, but he had no visible injuries. Bran said he had sought out the Night King on his own, and tried to kill him with sorcery, but failed. His own magic was almost going to kill him, but according to Bran, he was going to wake up. Arya decided to stay with him until he did.

It was past midnight, but Aegon still wasn’t awake. _You fucking idiot_ , Arya thought. _Why did you do something so stupid?_

He might be a fool, but he was a handsome fool. He was exactly the sort of prince in Sansa’s foolish dreams… No, not really. Sansa would never want a prince who believed his elder sister’s claim to rule was stronger, because it meant that Sansa would never be a queen. Arya hated to admit it, but a part of that ambition had remained with Sansa, even after everything she had been through. But mayhaps that was what it took to be a good lady. Arya was never going to be a good lady. She didn’t want to marry a handsome prince and have his babies. But still, she wanted to kiss Aegon right now. She just wanted to know what it would feel like. Aegon would never know. No one would ever know. Bran, mayhaps, but he wouldn’t tell anyone. But she had to do it before Aegon woke up…

She went to him and touched his face slowly, to make sure he was still unconscious. Aegon looked like he was made of ivory and molten silver in the candlelight. It was easy to see why Aunt Lyanna had chosen Rhaegar… She then closed her eyes, leaned over him and pressed her lips against his, trying to savor the feeling. She was never going to have a chance like this again…

And then, his lips were moving, too, and his arms were pulling her closer. Arya didn’t resist. Once this was over, she was going to have to look at his face, and she was desperately trying to delay that embarrassing moment.

It was finally Aegon who broke the kiss. “No,” he whispered, but Arya didn’t know if he was talking to her, or himself. “No, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Then why did you kiss me back?” she asked angrily.

“Because I knew it was meant to happen. I had seen this room in my dreams, Arya. And I had seen you, too, in my arms.”

“When you saw me in the throne room for the first time, did you know?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why did you stay away from me?”

“I guess I didn’t want to be Rhaegar’s son. But Rhaenys convinced me that we weren’t Rhaegar and Lyanna. Rhaegar wanted her to fulfill a prophecy. And I, I…”

“You what?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Arya. I just want you to be happy.”

So, that was why he didn’t seem surprised at all. He had always known this was going to happen. _What is the harm?_ she asked herself and attempted to kiss him again. He knew who Arya Stark of Winterfell was—or, was not—so he wouldn’t expect her to become her princess one day and rule his castle. He could find himself a proper lady to do those things, there was no shortage of them in the realm. But for now, he could be hers. Her mother, even her father would be horrified if they could see her now, but she didn’t care. She finally had what she wanted. Her reputation had already been ruined in one way; people avoided her like the plague. _The freak who could change faces._ Mothers threw themselves at her feet and begged for mercy, men didn’t want to spar with her because they knew they were going to embarrass themselves. She might as well become a whore in their eyes. She would still be a whore in their eyes even if she died an old maid, because she refused to obey their stupid rules.

But Aegon didn’t let her kiss him again. “No,” he repeated. “I can’t do this to you. You must understand, Arya, I am going to die.”

“Well, if you keep doing stupid things, you surely will… Why did you seek out the Night King by yourself?”

“I don’t know… I think I wanted to prove my worth to Rhaegar. I wanted to show why I didn’t deserve to be cast aside like that.”

“Rhaegar is dead, Aegon, you can’t show him anything. And he was a fool, it was he who didn’t deserve you, Rhaenys… or Jon.”

He sighed. “That’s not why I’m going to die.”

“Why, then?” she insisted.

“Rhaenys’ sword… Fire is power, Arya, and that power comes at a cost. She has to sacrifice the person she loves most.”

“Qyburn,” she remembered. “He asked you who Rhaenys had killed for that sword. But I don’t understand. You’re alive.”

“It doesn’t matter. She will have to kill me when the time comes. I don’t know how it will come to pass, but she has to. I am the one she loves most, and I have to die. You won’t have a future with me.

“No!” she cried. “No, I won’t let you die!”

“You aren’t planning to hurt Rhaenys, right?” he asked warily. “Because believe me, it won’t be easy for her either.”

“Of course not! Rhaenys is my friend. But I can’t let her hurt you.”

“This is my choice, Arya. I made it a long time ago.”

“And I’ve just made mine…”

She started to unbutton her leather tunic. A part of her still couldn’t believe she was actually doing this, but at this point, Arya was beyond caring. She had already defied most of the rules her mother and Septa Mordane had tried to teach her, but there was still one more rule left to be defied. She didn’t want to die an old maid, and Aegon was the man who should take her maidenhead. She didn’t have to tell him why she was doing this. He already knew why. She could see it in his eyes. He had been raised among girls like Arya; he was never going to judge her, or fear her. He was never going to try to tame her.

She quickly got rid of her tunic and her breeches, but paused once all she was wearing was her smallclothes.

"Are you sure about this?”

Arya nodded. "You said you wanted me to be happy. This is going to make me happy."

He removed his breeches and his smallclothes, and tossed them aside. Seeing him naked as his name day didn’t make her blush, or avert her gaze. On the contrary, it helped her feel more comfortable. Aegon touched the scars on her belly.

“What happened?”

“I got stabbed while training,” she said simply. The Waif was the last thing she wanted to remember right now.

He placed a kiss on each scar before removing her smallclothes. Arya thought he was going to enter her, but he took his time. He touched and kissed her lips, her breasts, her belly, and her thighs, until she found her own hands guiding him inside her. Even then, he was gentle. It was a bit uncomfortable at first, but not painful. Arya didn’t know if it was because Aegon was kind, or because she had been through too much pain and become indifferent to it. Either way, it wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t as good as she had thought it would be.

“How do you feel?” he asked afterwards.

She shrugged. “Fine.”

“It will get better, believe me. Though I am not sure if we should do this again. Some people might not like it.”

“Do you think I would be here if I gave a fuck about _some people_?”

"No."

“I don’t want you to die,” she said, resting her head on Aegon’s chest. She had just given him her maidenhead, but she still struggled to believe such a beautiful man could be real.

“At least you have time to prepare yourself.”

They didn’t speak again.

Arya woke up at dawn. Aegon was still asleep. She got out of the bed and put on her clothes, moving as quietly as a cat, and decided to visit Bran. She found him in the godswood, under the heart tree.

“I know what you’re going to ask.”

Arya thought she might have blushed, but she wasn’t certain. “And?”

“I’m sorry, Arya. The ink is dry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've thought a lot about Jon's real name and the annulment while writing this chapter. I'd thought Jon's real name would be Jahaerys in the books, and the show changed it to Aegon because the casual audience probably wouldn't be familiar with the other Targaryen names in the ASOIAF lore. And they changed Asha to Yara before, for example, just because some people might confuse "Asha" with "Osha." But then I came to the conclusion that Jon is one of the few characters the show writers actually care about, and they wouldn't change such an important detail about him. Besides, it actually makes perfect sense in this story. I don't want to give any spoilers, but you will see why.
> 
> As for the annulment... Many people think Rhaegar should've taken Lyanna as a second wife, but as far as I know, polygamy is a crime both in the Faith, and the religion of the Old Gods (correct me if I'm mistaken). It's only allowed in the religion of Old Valyria. I thought both Rhaegar and Lyanna might have converted to the Valyrian religion before season 6, but apparently that's not the case. So, the annulment is the real deal in this story as well.


	27. Things We Do For Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm re-uploading today's chapter because I think there was some kind of glitch. Sorry about that.

“You are not really angry with me, are you?” Rhaenys asked before hugging Tyene one last time. “This is for your own safety.”

If only she could tell her that this was goodbye, that they would never see each other again…

“Of course not! I can’t wait to meet Ashara and Lewyn.”

Rhaenys forced herself to smile. “Good. Be well. Be strong. Don’t let what Cersei did to you haunt you for the rest of your life. Remember our words:  _Unbowed, unbent, unbroken_.”

Tyene hugged Sarella next, then climbed aboard. Rhaenys and Sarella stood there and watched in silence until the ship disappeared over the horizon.

“So?” Sarella asked under her breath as they returned to the Red Keep together. “Arya is the girl in Aegon’s dreams…”

“That’s what he told me.”

“And you gave him your blessing?”

“I told you, Sarella. Arya is not responsible for the sins of her aunt.”

“Well, I am happy for them. Arya is already a part of this family after what she did for Tyene.”

“Of course she is.”

Rhaenys had given him her blessing, but she had made Aegon promise that he would tell Arya the truth about the Lightbringer before she fell for him. That he was destined to be the sacrifice. Otherwise, the poor girl’s heart would be broken, and Rhaenys didn’t want that for her. She had destroyed enough lives already…

“What is it?” Sarella asked when Rhaenys paused.

“You go ahead. I need to speak with someone.”

She shrugged. “Alright…”

Rhaenys had decided to see Ser Jaime. Daenerys had pardoned him, but only because of Lord Tyrion.

Rhaenys had never been sure what to think of Ser Jaime. He had always been kind to Rhaenys and her mother while they were being kept as hostage by the Mad King. There was also the fact that he had killed the Mad King. But why had he not been there to protect Elia Martell after killing him? Rhaenys didn’t believe that he had simply not cared. Somehow, she knew that he had. But she had been avoiding him since she returned to this damnable city. It was easy to pretend like she had never lived here as a frightened little girl, while everyone now both respected and feared her. Ser Jaime was the only remaining witness of those days of terror, and speaking to him would make them real once again.

She took a deep breath before knocking on his door.

“Yes?”

Slowly, Rhaenys opened the door. “Hello, Ser Jaime.”

He looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

“I am glad that Daenerys didn’t kill you.”

“Do you think I’ve been given a choice?” He seemed disappointed that he wasn’t among those who had been burned alive by Drogon the other day.

He still loved Cersei. He had killed her, yet he still loved her.

“The army of the dead is coming. We need seasoned commanders like you.”

“You put your hopes in a cripple?” he sneered bitterly.

“A cripple trained by men like Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy. I would never underestimate you.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?”

“Do you still blame me for your daughter’s death?”

“I don’t know.”

“I didn’t kill her. But I failed to protect her. Just like you failed to protect my mother. I suppose that makes us even.”

“I suppose it does,” he replied dryly.

“Why, Ser Jaime? You could have been a hero, a legend, like Ser Arthur… You could have protected my mother. The Mountain wouldn’t even have dared to harm you. You were Tywin’s son. All you had to do was to be with her! Why were you not there?”

She released a deep breath after finally asking the question that had been nagging at her mind for more than two decades.

He shrugged. “Elia had stolen my sister’s dream, she had married Rhaegar. So I just let her die. I didn’t care how horrible her death was.”

“No! You were brave, and you were kind! You did care about us!”

“Why can’t you just accept that I’m a traitor? An oathbreaker?”

“I don’t know,” she lied. She didn’t want to accept that Rhaegar had left his family with a traitor, while he had chosen his most trusted friends to protect Lyanna. She had to believe that Ser Jaime—even though he was a Lannister—was as trustworthy as any of them. Yes, he had killed the Mad King. But that had only made him a hero in her eyes, not a traitor. All she needed to hear was a good excuse why he hadn’t been able to save her mother.

“I didn’t know!” he snapped. “I was young, and I was stupid! I didn’t know what my father was capable of! If I had, I would’ve protected your mother with my life.”

She turned her back to him and squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

After a long silence, Ser Jaime decided to speak. “Your dragon… What’s his name? Balerion?”

Rhaenys turned to him. She wasn’t surprised to see that he remembered her kitten’s name. “Rhaegal.”

“Don’t look at me like that, I wasn’t the one who named him,” she added disdainfully. The expression of pity on his face was unbearable to look at. A part of her just wanted to punch him to death.

But Ser Jaime didn’t seem convinced.

“I don’t understand,” she said this time, to taunt him back. “You had seen the Targaryen madness with your own eyes. You knew the cost of incest. Yet you fucked your sister and sired another crowned beast like Aerys. Why?”

“I thought the Dornishmen were more open-minded.”

“I _am_  open-minded. I have known men who love other men, women who love other women. I have known lovers who enjoyed sharing each other with other men and women. But none of these people have created a monster like Aerys, or Joffrey. Don’t expect me to tolerate the very crime that destroyed the whole realm. It was the same crime that had destroyed your life, your honor… So, why?”

“Things we do for love…”

_Things we do for love, indeed_ , she agreed. No wonder love was the only thing that could put the power of dragon fire into a sword.

She decided to leave Ser Jaime be. He already had enough guilt to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“I begged him,” he said all of a sudden as she prepared to leave. “I begged Rhaegar to take me to the Trident with him. But he didn’t.”

“Well, he had to leave one Kingsguard behind to protect the King,” she sneered.

“He didn’t say anything about the King. Or the Queen. He told me to protect you. You, your mother, and your brother.”

Rhaenys was glad that her back was turned to him. She pushed the door open, and stormed off to her chambers at Maegor’s Holdfast.

_“He told me to protect you.”_

Was it because they were his family? Or, was it because he had to make sure the other two heads of the dragon wouldn’t be killed while he was busy stealing away with a mother for the third?

She locked herself in her solar for hours and tried to find an answer, until a guard told her that Lord Baelish had come to visit her.

Rhaenys knew Littlefinger only by reputation, but even his reputation alone was enough to make her despise him. Having to deal with men like him could be the most important reason neither Rhaenys nor Aegon wanted the Iron Throne. Still, she decided to receive him.

“Princess Rhaenys,” Littlefinger greeted her with an insincere smile.

“Have a seat, Lord Baelish,” she said wearily. “And tell me why you are here.”

“I was simply hoping to tell you how much admire you as a ruler.”

“Why would you admire me?”

“Because we have something in common. And I believe this thing can make us good friends.”

“You and I are nothing alike, my lord.”

“I respectfully disagree. We both understand the power of knowledge. We understand it better than anyone else in the realm, if you ask me.”

“What makes you think so?” she asked, trying to appear interested.

“It was this understanding that helped you destroy the most ruthless dynasty the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen… With a simple sword.”

“Believe me Lord Baelish, there is nothing  _simple_  about my sword."

“If you say so. You  _know_  the power of that sword better than I do. Like I said, knowledge…”

“I am not going to play your games with you,” she cut him off. She had thought he had something important to say, but apparently, he was only here to flatter her.

“I’m not here to play games, Princess. I only ask you to allow me to give you a gift.”

“I don’t want your gifts.”

“You and I both know that this is a lie.”

“Alright. What sort of gift?”

“A piece of knowledge. Trust me, you’ll be thankful to me afterwards.”

Rhaenys wanted to refuse him again, but he would surely find a way to tell her, one way or the other. Mayhaps it was best to play along.

“Very well. Tell me.”

“Have you ever wondered what might have killed Lyanna Stark?”

She shrugged. “She probably killed herself when she heard of Rhaegar’s death.”

“Lyanna was being protected by the three members of the Kingsguard. I don’t think they would let a young maiden kill herself. They were loyal to Prince Rhaegar even after his death.”

“Well, apparently they didn’t do such a great job at protecting her, did they?”

“What if it wasn’t Lyanna Stark they were protecting?”

Rhaenys’ confident smirk disappeared. “What do you mean, Lord Baelish?”

“The Kingsguard only protect the king. Or the king’s family. Prince Rhaegar might have loved Lady Lyanna, but it wasn’t enough to make her a part of the royal family, was it? Think about it… Why would they protect her from her own brother? But what if there was someone else in that tower? A child, perhaps… Lord Stark went to Dorne to rescue his sister. He returned home with his sister’s bones, and a baby. Curious, don’t you think?”

He had returned home with a baby. With his bastard. Jon Snow…

No, it couldn’t be true… Littlefinger was just playing one of his games with her.

But Rhaegar had wanted a third child. That was why he had taken Lyanna Stark. Lady Melisandre had said Jon Snow had an important role to play in the Great War. And Rhaegal… Rhaegal had almost been drawn to him on Dragonstone.

“Come on, Princess Rhaenys… You’re a clever woman.”

“Get out,” she hissed. “Get out! I won’t hear it!”

Without a word, Littlefinger rose to his feet and turned on his heels.

“Lord Baelish,” Rhaenys said threateningly as he prepared to leave. She had hidden her hands under the desk; she didn’t want Littlefinger to see how badly they were shaking. “When we go to Winterfell, I want you to stay away from my brother.”

Lord Baelish paused in the doorway, and looked at her with a wry smirk playing about his lips.

“Which brother?”


	28. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said Jon only had two POV chapters in this story, but his second chapter was too long, so I've decided to split it into two shorter chapters. That means there will be 31 chapters in total.

“I should return to my own tent,” Jon said, as he fastened his breeches with trembling hands.

“No,” Dany whispered. “Stay with me tonight. I don’t want to be alone. Haven’t you noticed where we are?”

He sighed. Of course he had. “The Trident.”

“This is where my brother died. Where the war was lost.”

“If people see—“

“Let them see.”

“I don’t want to dishonor you.”

She laughed. “Do you think what we do is dishonorable?”

“No, that’s not what I meant! But the rest of the world… They…” He paused, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t concerned about his own honor. He had coupled with a wildling girl while he was still a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch. He had deserted his post and become a king. Somehow, he had been forgiven by his people, but it didn’t change the fact that he had broken all his vows. But Daenerys… She was the Queen of Westeros. The people wouldn’t be as forgiving to her as they were to him. She had a reputation to think of.

“I don’t care about _them_.”

“You should. Goodnight, Dany.”

He gently cupped her beautiful face in his hands, and kissed her lips before leaving the Queen’s tent.

After making love to Daenerys for the first time, he had wondered if he had never come back from the dead at Castle Black, and this was the _other side_ the Red Woman had once asked him about. But Dany’s presence was the complete opposite of that terrible darkness. It wasn’t only because she was beautiful, or because she rode a dragon. Beneath her ambition and cruelty, she had a gentle, and even broken heart. Jon might be the most fortunate man in the world to be able to see that heart for what it truly was.

When he entered his tent, he didn’t find it empty. Rhaenys was sitting in a chair, and petting Ghost. Despite Jon’s reluctance to trust this woman, the direwolf liked her.

“I have always had a weakness for animals,” she said idly when she saw Jon.

The Dornish princess had been acting different since they left King’s Landing _._ She looked at Jon as if he wanted to murder him _She knows_ , Jon thought. _She knows about me and Dany._

“Why are you here, Rhaenys?”

“To apologize.”

“For what?”

“For being so rude to you lately… I had no choice. Littlefinger wants you dead. He tried to turn me against you. I had to let him think that he had succeeded. That was the only way to protect you.”

“What did he tell you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Jon watched Ghost lope out of the tent before he spoke again. “Well, if that man thinks it’s something that can make you kill me, I believe it does.”

“I am not going to tell you, Jon. If I do, Littlefinger wins.”

“Well, am I safe now?”

“Safe? Far from it! You won’t be safe until Littlefinger is dead.”

“Baelish is the Lord Protector of the Vale. We can’t just kill him. But if you tell me what happened between you two, I can execute him for conspiring against me.”

“I am not going to tell you,” she repeated.

“What are you going to do, then?” he asked exasparetedly.

“Like I said, we have to let him think he has succeeded.”

She rose to her feet, and only then, Jon noticed the dagger in her hand. Instinctively, his hand went to the hilt of Longclaw.

“You still don’t trust me. Why?”

“I want to trust you, Rhaenys. But you’re not making it easy.”

“I am not the one who burned your friend’s father and brother alive.”

He crossed his arms. “At least Daenerys doesn’t lie to me about her plans.”

“Are you still angry about the Lightbringer? I told you, I didn’t do it for glory. Besides, you need me, Jon Snow. According to the prophecy, that sword is the only thing that can kill the Night King. Which means, I am the only one who can kill the Night King.”

“Then why didn’t you tell us the truth? Do you realize how much you frightened Dany?”

She smirked. “ _Dany_?”

Jon felt like his face was on fire despite the cold, and decided to change the subject. “I’d trusted you with my sister’s life. You should’ve been honest with me.”

“I wouldn’t have let her die. And I won’t let you die either.”

“Why? Why do you care?”

“Because of your father.”

“You take this _debt_ too seriously, Rhaenys.”

All of a sudden, she punched him in the face. She was indeed much stronger than she seemed.

Jon staggered backwards, and tasted the blood in his mouth.

Rhaenys offered him the dagger. “Go ahead, stab me.”

“What?”

“Stab me.”

“I’m not going to stab you!”

Frustrated, she shook her head, and then stabbed herself in the stomach before Jon could even react.

He sighed. “You’re mad…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and took a few deep breaths before opening her eyes.

“Now what?” Jon asked desperately. She had left him no choice but to play along.

She sat down on the ground. “I have tried to kill you, but you need my armies. So, you will take me hostage. Don’t worry, my men have their orders. They won’t fight you. Once I pull this dagger out, I'm going to start bleeding, so you must let Maester Caleotte see me."

She then began to scream at the top of her lungs. “I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU SON OF A WHORE!!! YOU HAVE DESTROYED US ALL, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!! YOU ARE DEAD, DO YOU HEAR ME?”

_She is a good liar_ , Jon thought, wondering what Littlefinger might have told her to turn them against each other.

It didn’t take long until Ser Davos and three guards barged into the tent and captured her.

“She… she tried to kill me,” Jon mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

Rhaenys was still screaming like a lunatic. “THIS IS NOT OVER, JON SNOW!!! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!!!”

“What do you want to do with her, Your Grace?” Ser Davos asked.

“We need her armies. That means we need her alive.”

“We’ll keep her hostage, then.”

Jon nodded, hoping Rhaenys could be trusted. As far as he was concerned, this woman was no better than Littlefinger. They both played their clever games. And now, they were playing against each other.

…

“Leave us,” Jon told the guard.

“Your Grace… Are you sure?” the Northern boy asked warily, staring at Rhaenys.

Jon nodded, and the guard left the cage that had been built to hold the Dornish princess. Rhaegal had tried to save her once, but Drogon, who was much bigger and fiercer, had scared him away. No one had seen Rhaegal since then. Tyrion had said the dragons were as intelligent as humans, but Jon didn’t know if the fight between Drogon and Rhaegal was real, or just a part of Rhaenys’ plan.

“Your men have agreed to fight for the North as long as you’re alive,” he told her.

“Look how far I’ve fallen to protect him,” she mumbled, but Jon wasn’t sure whom she was talking to.

“Why are you doing this?” Jon asked again. He still found it hard to believe. People like Rhaenys didn’t go this far to pay a debt of gratitude.

“It appears I might not have a choice on that front.” She looked around, probably to make sure there was no one nearby. “What about Littlefinger?” she then asked under her breath. “Does he look happy?”

“He seems satisfied.”

He had no doubt that Littlefinger had been planning to turn them against each other. Rhaenys wasn’t lying about that. Jon still remembered his face when they had seen the Dornish fleet at Dragonstone.

“Good.”

“I’m going to tell Ser Davos the truth. Daenerys deserves to know as well. She is terrified.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking for permission.”

“You are an idiot, Jon.”

“Why? Because I don’t play this game like you do?”

“At least I am playing to protect you!”

“What if something happens to me? Who else is going to prove your innocence? What you’ve done can start a war between Dorne and the North. “

“Fine,” she relented. “Tell Daenerys, and Ser Davos. But no one else. Do you understand? If you don’t respect me, at least respect the risk I have taken for you.”

The last part made him slightly guilty. Was he being ungrateful to her? He didn’t like the way she and her brother treated Dany, but Dany had told him what really had happened in Meereen. _“It’s my greatest shame,”_ she had said. Jon believed Dany deserved to be forgiven, but perhaps he was asking for too much. If Sansa or Arya got tortured, could he find forgiveness in his heart for the queen who was responsible for it? He didn’t think so.

“I won’t tell anyone else, I swear,” he said softly.

“Good. Now go. Don’t come visit me again.”

…

“What are you going to do about Lord Baelish?” Dany whispered. They were lying in her bed as usual, completely naked. The only thing that sheltered them from the cold was the soft, fur blanket.

“I have no idea,” he admitted. “I think I’ll just let Rhaenys deal with him. She seems to have a plan.”

“Do you trust her?”

“Should I?”

“I think you should. She promised to save Arya, and she kept that promise, didn’t she? Now she has promised to protect you. I’ll never understand my niece, Jon, but she’s not someone who would make empty promises. She is out there, imprisoned in a cage, like an animal…”

“You feel bad for her.”

“She is my family. All I want is a family, but my own father took them from me. And I don’t know how to get them back.”

“I’m still not sure if Rhaenys and Aegon deserve to be your family…”

“Your sister is right, you know.”

“About what?” he asked, pulling her even closer.

“About how I’m putting you in danger. I’m scared for you, Jon. What if the Northern lords rebel against you? Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked you to bend the knee.”

“If we want to build a better world, we can only do it together. That was what you told me.”

“If I weren’t barren, I would ask you to join the Seven Kingdoms through marriage. That way, you could keep your title.”

He laughed. “Is this a proposal?”

“I’m barren, Jon. You deserve to have children. I can’t give you any.”

“What if that witch was wrong?”

“What if she was right?”

“We can find another witch to undo what she did, then.”

She was obviously considering the option, but she didn’t seem very convinced.

“I was never supposed to have any children, Dany,” he said. “When I was a boy, my greatest fear was to sire any bastards like myself. I knew I wouldn’t get married either. No father would give his daughter to me. When I joined the Night’s Watch, I never felt like I was giving up on anything…”

“Things are different now.”

Of course they were. Winterfell needed an heir, he knew. They didn’t know if Bran could have children. Arya was Arya. Sansa had always wanted a family of her own, but Jon couldn’t force her either, after everything she had been through. Ser Davos thought Mance Rayder’s daughter, Val, would be a good match to ensure peace between the Northerners and the Free Folk, and to be honest, Jon liked her. But he wasn’t in love with her. He didn’t like her the way he liked Dany.

“I know. Let’s not think about it now, though. We’ll be at Winterfell by midday tomorrow. We should get some rest.”

Dany sighed, and then closed her eyes. Jon stayed with her, until she fell asleep, then returned to his own tent. People were now whispering about them, he knew, but he still had to keep this a secret. He couldn’t let the Northern lords think a Targaryen woman was wrapping their king around her fingers. That was how they would see it.

Indeed, Winterfell appeared on the grey, snowy horizon the next day. Daenerys jerked the reins of her mare to a halt. Jon did the same. He had been dying to see her reaction. He might not be a Stark, but this place was his home. He had always wanted to show it to Ygritte. He knew she would have been impressed. Even a simple mill or watchtower was enough to impress her. But Daenerys was different. She had seen many wonders in the cities of Essos.

“It’s beautiful…” she mumbled.

“I’m glad you like it.”

The Winterfell guards must have seen them, for everyone was ready in the courtyard to welcome Jon and the Dragon Queen. Lord Yohn Royce, with the Knights of the Vale, the Northern lords, Lord Edmure Tully, and a group of strangers he had never seen before, save for the Hound. He had seen the Mountain’s brother only once before, but a man of that size, and disfigured face was hard to forget.

And of course, Sansa, Arya, and Bran…

Jon went to his brother first, he hadn’t seen him in years.

“Hello, Jon.”

Jon hugged him. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m alright.”

Arya and Sansa were smiling at them.

“Welcome home, brother,” Sansa said.

Sam, Gilly, and Aegon were standing behind Jon’s family.

“Sam! I thought you would be at the Citadel…”

“I couldn’t have helped you from there,” he said nervously. Did he think Jon would be angry at him? “I want to be by your side when the army of the dead comes.”

Jon hugged him, too.

Finally, he went to Aegon. “Prince Aegon,” he started. “Your sister…”

“I know. Lady Sansa thinks we need to give her a trial.”

“When?” Jon asked Sansa.

“Now.”

Jon frowned. He had thought Aegon would be more upset, but he wasn’t. Did he know? But how could that be possible?

One of the strangers that were standing in the corner approached him. “King Jon,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Beric Dondarrion, and these men are—“

“You’re the Brotherhood without Banners.”

“The Brotherhood wants to help us,” Sansa explained. “But Arya has tried to kill Lord Beric and Thoros of Myr…”

Jon didn’t know why Arya wanted to kill them, but he decided to ask her later. “Arya, we need all the help we can get. You know that.”

Arya shrugged. “Fine.”

“Sansa, Arya, Bran… This is Queen Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen. She has agreed to help us fight the army of the dead. I’ve agreed to—“

Sansa cleared her throat. “We understand, brother,” she said under her breath, with a meaningful look. Arya must have told them. Sansa was probably concerned about the reaction of the Northern lords. “Let’s give Princess Rhaenys a trial first, shall we?”

“Very well.”

While everyone set off to the Great Hall for the trial, Daenerys and Jon went to Rhaenys’ cage, which was waiting outside.

“Let her out,” Jon told the guards.

They opened the cage, and brought her to Jon. He wanted to tell them to be more gentle, but Rhaenys had told him to make this look convincing. Littlefinger had spies everywhere.

“Sansa wants to give you a trial,” Jon said. “Was this a part of your plan?”

“No.”

“What are you going to do?”

She thought for a moment. “Is Aegon with them?”

“Yes.”

“Is he trying to kill everyone?”

“No.”

“Then it will be alright.”

“Come,” he told Dany, and they, too, went to the Great Hall, with the guards dragging Rhaenys along behind them.

Dany turned around and whispered, “Rhaenys, you might be in trouble. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Dany looked at Jon, and let out a desperate sigh.

When they entered the Great Hall, Jon took his place at the high table. Sansa was on his right, and Arya, on his left. Bran was sitting at the high table as well. Rhaenys, who was now standing before them, exchanged looks with Aegon first, then with Arya.

“She is innocent,” Jon whispered in Sansa’s ear.

“We know.”

“How?”

“Bran. He has… visions. He told us what really happened.”

Jon looked at Littlefinger. He was smiling. He decided to let Sansa do the speaking. She clearly had a plan.

“Princess Rhaenys,” Sansa started.

Rhaenys nodded. “Lady Stark.”

“We’ve been expecting you.”

“Obviously. Let’s get it over with, then.”

“Very well. You stand accused of murder. You stand accused of treason. How do you answer these charges… Lord Baelish?”

Littlefinger’s  smile faded, but he didn’t say anything.

“My sister asked you a question,” Arya said.

“Lady Sansa, forgive me… I’m a bit confused.”

“Which charges confuse you? Let’s start with the simplest one. You murdered our aunt, Lysa Arryn, you pushed her through the Moon Door and watched her fall, do you deny it?

“I did it to protect you.”

“You did it to take power in the Vale. Earlier you conspired to murder Jon Arryn. You gave Lysa the Tears of Lys to poison him, do you deny it?”

“Whatever your aunt might have told you, she was a troubled woman. She imagined enemies everywhere,” he replied, walking towards the center of the hall, where Rhaenys still stood.

“You had Aunt Lysa send a letter to our parents, telling them it was the Lannisters who murdered Jon Arryn, when really it was you. The conflict between the Starks and the Lannisters, it was you who started it, do you deny it?”

_How does she know all these?_ Jon wondered. _How powerful is Bran?_

“I know of no such letter.”

“You conspired with Cersei Lannister and Joffrey Baratheon to betray our father, Ned Stark. Thanks to your treachery, he was imprisoned, and later executed on false charges of treason, do you deny it?”

“I deny it! None of you were there, to see what happened,” he said, looking at the Knights of the Vale! None of you knows the truth!”

“You held a knife to his throat,” Bran spoke for the first time since the trial started. Baelish turned to Bran and looked at him in disbelief. “You said, ‘I did warn you not to trust me.’”

“And finally,” Sansa went on, “You tried to turn Princess Rhaenys against Jon. You wanted him dead, but you couldn’t do it yourself, could you?”

“But she has tried to kill him, hasn’t she?” he asked hastily. He was now truly in panic. “Will she not answer for that crime?”

“She did it to protect me,” Jon said. “From you. I was right to trust her.”

Arya rose from her seat, drew a dagger, and went to cut Rhaenys loose.

“Sansa…” Littlefinger begged. “If we could speak alone, I can explain everything.”

“No.”

This time, he went to Lord Yohn Royce. “I’m the Lord Protector of the Vale, and I command you to escort me safely back to Eyrie.”

Lord Royce shook his head. “I think not.”

At last, he fell down on his knees. “Sansa, I beg you… I love you, more than anyone.”

“You think you understand love, Lord Baelish, but you don’t. That’s why you’ve lost this time.”

He scrambled to his feet, and looked at the Northern lords. “They want me dead because I know the truth! Jon Snow, he is not—“

But Arya slit his throat before he could say anything else.

“Well, this went smoother than I expected,” Rhaenys told Arya. “How did you know?”

“My brother, Bran, is the Three-Eyed Raven. He has visions.”

“What can he see?”

“Everything.”

“ _Everything_?” she repeated insinuatingly, and Arya nodded.

_They know something_ , Jon thought as he watched the Knights of the Vale take Littlefinger’s body away. _They all know something that I don’t._

But he had more pressing concerns now, such as the Northern lords waiting for an explanation for the alliance between the King in the North and the Dragon Queen.

“My lords, my ladies,” he started. “Queen Daenerys Stormborn has generously agreed to help us defend the North. She has… conditions, of course.”

“What are these _conditions_ , Your Grace?” Lord Glover asked suspiciously.

Jon took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. “I’ve promised to bend the knee once the war is won.”

The pandemonium broke loose. Most of the Northern lords rose to their feet and started yelling. Even the ones who had chosen to remain silent didn’t seem happy.

Jon slammed his fist on the table to silence them.

Slowly, they went quiet, and returned to their seats.

“Your Grace,” Lord Glover spoke again. “We’ve chosen you to rule the North. Not to let it be conquered by a Targaryen again.”

Daenerys rose from her seat. “My Lord, I’m not here to conquer the North. I’m here to save the North.”

They didn’t seem persuaded, though. “Another Southerner made a promise like this once,” Lyanna Mormont said. “Stannis Baratheon. He promised to save the North from the treacherous Boltons, and asked for my help. Do you know what I told him? We know no king, but the King in the North whose name is Stark. Now, I’m telling you the same.”

The others nodded in agreement.

Lord Manderly looked at Daenerys first, and then Lord Tyrion, and finally, Ser Jorah Mormont. “You cannot expect us to trust a Targaryen, a Lannister, and a disgraced Northerner!”

“King Jon told me that this would happen… I know the Northerners suffered because of my father. So did I. Please do not see me as the Mad King’s daughter. Do not judge a daughter by her father’s sins.”

Lyanna Mormont shook her head. “If you want to sit on your father’s throne, my lady, then you have to answer for his sins.” She then turned to Jon. “If you bend the knee to Daenerys Stormborn, Your Grace, you will no longer be my king. But she will not be my queen either.”

Lady Mormont was the first to leave the Great Hall. Others repeated these words, and one by one, they, too, left.

“Your Grace,” Ser Jorah told Daenerys. “Let me speak with Lady Mormont. Perhaps I can persuade her.”

“You don’t need my permission to speak with your family, ser. But please don’t waste your breath to defend my cause. No, defend your own honor instead. And I shall prove mine when the time comes.”

“Jon,” Sansa said softly, “We need to speak with you. In private.”

Daenerys smiled. “I’ll take my leave, then.”

“She should be here,” Bran said, looking and Dany, Rhaenys, and Aegon. “They all should.”

“You are going to tell him…” Rhaenys said angrily.

“Yes.”

“If you do this, Littlefinger wins. Jon is too important, he can’t be distracted with such things right now.”

“He needs to know.”

“Forgive me, Princess, but you’re not a part of this family,” Sansa broke in. “Jon is not your concern.”

“If the prophecy is true, then he is the realm’s concern. I have two kingdoms to protect.”

“Enough!” Jon finally snapped. “Whatever this is about, I want to hear it, now! I’m still the King in the North, and in the North, you all will follow my rules. That includes you, too, Arya.”

Arya seemed confused. “Me?”

“Yes, sister. Do you remember what Father used to tell us about executions?”

“The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.”

“Exactly. It should’ve been me who passed the sentence. You executed Littlefinger without my command. Don’t do that again.”

“He was going to tell everyone!”

“Tell everyone what?” he asked again, exaspreted.

“Rhaenys,” Aegon told his sister quietly. “Let the Starks tell Jon the truth. There is something else you need to know. Come with me.”

“Very well, brother. Let’s go.”

The Dornishmen left. Now only Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Ser Davos, Sam, Daenerys, Lord Tyrion and Ser Jorah were left in the Great Hall.

“Well,” Jon said. “I’m waiting…”

“Jon,” Sansa started. “Beyond the Wall, Bran saw a vision about you. About your parents.”

_My mother. They know who my mother is._

He gulped. “And?”

“You’re still a Stark to us, you know that, right? You’re still our brother.”

“Thanks, Sansa. But please, tell me.”

“Your father wasn’t Ned Stark. You are the legitimate son of Lyanna and Rhaegar.”

He wasn’t Ned Stark’s son.

Sansa and Arya weren’t his sisters.

Bran wasn’t his brother. Neither were Robb and Rickon.

Rhaenys and Aegon were his half-siblings.

The Mad King was his grandfather.

And Daenerys…

_I’ve made love to my aunt. I’m in love with my aunt._

Everyone was waiting for him to say something, anything… But he didn’t know what to say.

He looked at Dany. Would she see him as a threat now? But her purple eyes were shining with hope. In fact, he had never seen her this happy before.

A family. She had always wanted a family, and now, the family she wanted stood right before her.

“When was he born?” she asked curiously. “When did my brother legitimize him?”

“Rhaegar didn’t have to legitimize him,” Sam answered. “He had annulled his marriage to Elia, and married Lyanna in a secret ceremony in Dorne.”

Dany’s smile faded.

“He did what?” Jon cried.

“Here,” Sam said, opening a thick book. “This is the High Septon’s diary.”

Jon read the page Sam showed him, again and again.

“There’s nothing written about me here, though.”

“No, it was Bran who figured your parentage out. But this diary is the proof of your birthright.”

“What birthright?”

“Your claim to the Iron Throne, of course!”

“I don’t want the Iron Throne!”

“Because of me?” Dany asked. “Jon, I won’t repeat the same mistake I did with Aegon. I will respect your claim. I can’t lose you, too.”

“It’s not because of you, Dany! I’m of the North. I belong in the North! I know I can’t be the King in the North after this, but I can still protect this kingdom.”

“Why?” Arya cried. “Why can’t you be the King in the North?”

“Because I’m not a Stark! Remember what Lady Mormont said? _We know no king, but the King in the North whose name is Stark_!”

“Well, your mother was a Stark. That makes you a Stark.”

“No, it doesn’t. And I can’t lie to the Northerners.”

“Wait, do you know what his real name is?” Daenerys asked Bran.

“Aegon Targaryen,” Bran replied curtly.

“W—what?” Jon looked at him with disbelief, hoping he had heard wrong. “I can’t be Aegon Targaryen, there’s already an Aegon—“

“He was no longer a Targaryen after the annulment.”

This was wrong. This was so wrong, in so many ways… “Why?”

“He needed the third head of the dragon. He was trying to fulfill a prophecy.”

“Wait… Rhaenys said something about this prophecy.”

“You’re destined to lead the fight against the Night King.”

“So, what happened between Rhaegar and Lyanna… It wasn’t love. It was duty. Some twisted sense of duty.”

“It was both.”

“Jon,” Daenerys said softly, “You always said you wanted to be a trueborn.”

“He wanted to be a Stark,” Arya corrected her.

“I wanted to be a trueborn because I thought it would give me pride. This… This doesn’t give me any pride.”

On the contrary, all he wanted was to crawl under a rock and hide there for the rest of his life. How was he supposed to look at Aegon now? He was Rhaegar’s firstborn son, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, yet he had been cast aside because of Jon. He knew he had renounced his claim, but still… Renouncing one’s claim willingly, and being denied that claim in such a humiliating way weren’t the same thing. And Rhaenys… She had stabbed herself and spend weeks locked up in a cage, just to be able to protect him from Littlefinger. Had Littlefinger known about the annulment, or had he simply somehow figured out Jon’s parentage by himself? Either way, this was Rhaenys’ reward now.

And they were only the two of Jon’s many victims…

She sighed. “I understand.”

“No, Daenerys. It’s not because I’m a Targaryen.”

“Why, then?”

“How many people died so that I could be born? How many lives were destroyed?  Yours is one of those lives, Dany, do you realize that?  I’m the reason you spent your life in exile. I’m the reason your brother went mad. I stole my brother’s name, and his birthright the moment I came into this world! How did Rhaegar and Lyanna expect me to live with that? Did they really believe I would feel no shame, and embrace my destiny as a hero? As this _third head of the dragon_?”

“You’re not responsible for any of those things, Jon… It appears you have so much to discuss,” Dany said with a sad smile, looking at Arya, Sansa, and Bran.

“Before you leave, can I ask for something?”

“Of course.”

“Please don’t tell anybody about this. Not yet.”

“Of course.”

“No one will hear this from me, you have my word,” Ser Jorah said.

“And mine as well,” Lord Tyrion added.

“Thank you.”

“Do you love her?” Sansa asked coldly after they were gone.

“Why do you ask?” Right now, he was too devastated to feel ashamed about being in love.

“Because I don’t trust that woman.”

“Well, you’re not the only one.”

“She has married twice, Jon, and both her husbands are now dead. We don’t want you to share the same fate.”

“Is this really what you want to discuss right now, Sansa?”

“What do you want to discuss?”

“What will happen to me?”

“I don’t know, Jon. You’re the King, you tell us.”

“I can’t lie to the Northern lords. But I can’t tell the truth just yet. The North needs to stand united until the Great War is over.”

“That’s why I killed Littlefinger,” Arya reminded.

“I appreciate it, Arya. But I meant what I said earlier. Please don’t kill anyone without my command again. At least while I’m still the King.”

“Jon, you can still be the King. The King of Westeros,” Sam suggested.

“No, Sam. I can’t steal Aegon’s birthright.”

“But Aegon is a bastard. And he has already renounced his claim.”

“He did that not to become a kinslayer. Don’t you see what an honorable sacrifice it was?”

“Is this what you want?” Sansa asked. “To make another honorable sacrifice?”

“I don’t know what I want right now,” he murmured, and stormed out of the Great Hall, but he could hear Arya running after him.

“What is it, Arya?” he asked warily.

“I don’t want to lose you, Jon,” she said, her grey eyes full of tears. “You’re still my brother, right?”

Jon hugged her. “Of course I am. I’m just… angry.”

“With us?”

“No. With my parents, I guess.”

“I was there, with Aegon, when he found out.”

“What did he do?” he asked, but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

“He left Winterfell. He went to the north of the Wall, and tried to kill the Night King by himself. Fool…”

_He wasn’t a fool_ , Jon thought. _This is just what bastards do when they are desperate to prove their worth.”_

“Try not to kill each other, will you?”

Jon chuckled. “I won’t fight back if he tries to kill me.”

“He won’t. He promised me.”

Jon frowned. Aegon and Arya… They were getting along well. Too well, in fact. Jon found his sacrifice honorable, and he felt guilty about what Rhaegar had done to him, but it didn’t change the fact that he was a dangerous man.

“So, you and Aegon…”

Arya shrugged.

Well, how could he tell her to stay away from him, after everything he himself had done with Ygritte and Daenerys? He wasn’t even really Arya’s brother. The thought broke his heart.

“Be careful around him, Arya. He is dangerous.”

“So am I.”

Jon chuckled again, ruffled Arya’s hair, and walked away.


	29. The Great War

“I know this is not easy for you, Sam,” Jon said. It was past midnight, but apparently neither Sam, nor Jon could sleep much tonight. Jon had found him sitting all by himself in the Great Hall.

“What?” Sam asked, apparently puzzled.

“Being around Daenerys.”

He sighed. “Well, my father was a cruel man, but even he didn’t deserve to die like that, Jon.”

“I want you to know that I don’t approve of everything Daenerys does.”

“But you love her?”

“I do. But I don’t think I’ll ever touch her again.”

“Why?”

“She is my aunt.”

“But the Targaryens—“

It didn’t seem to bother Dany. She had said she had grown up thinking she was going to marry her brother. But for Jon, it wasn’t that easy.

“Do you honestly think I’ll ever be a Targaryen, Sam?”

“No. Not really.”

“See? That’s not me.”

“But you’ve always wanted to be a trueborn!”

“I thought I’d be the trueborn son of an honorable man. Now I’m the trueborn son of an oathbreaker.”

“You weren’t careful what you wished for. And now your wish has come true.” Both Jon and Sam turned around. Rhaenys was standing in the doorway. “Just like mine… I’ve always wanted to be a Sand Snake. Am I a Sand? Or a Waters? Do we even get to choose?” she asked Sam casually.

“Uhm,” Sam frowned in confusion. “I’m not sure…”

“King Jon is dead… King Jon is dead, all hail King Aegon!” she said with a mock bow, and then swayed. She was drunk. “Long may he reign.”

Jon sighed. “Rhaenys, please don’t…”

She laughed, and pulled a chair to sit. “Come here, let’s talk.”

Not knowing what else to do, he obeyed.

“Do you want me to go?” Sam asked timidly.

Rhaenys studied him from head to toe, as if she had never seen him before. “Aren’t you Sarella’s friend from the Citadel?”

“I am.”

“Any friend of Sarella’s is a friend of mine. Stay. I have nothing to hide from you.”

Sam, too, pulled a chair to sit.

“Why are you here, Rhaenys?” Jon asked. These days, Aegon simply pretended like Jon didn’t exist, but Rhaenys… Rhaenys clearly wanted something from him.

“I just want to see that diary with my own eyes.”

Sam grabbed the High Septon’s diary, and found the page in question. Rhaenys stared at the same page for at least quarter an hour in silence. None of them spoke until she finally slammed it shut.

Sam cleared his throat. “Jon might not be a man of the Night’s Watch anymore, but he is still my brother. And I—“

“Well, apparently he is somehow everyone’s brother these days…”

“I just wanted to thank you for what you did for him.”

“For _him_?” she snapped. “Do you really think I did what I did for him? Make no mistake, Samwell Tarly, he might be your brother, but he will never be mine.”

“Why did you save him, then?”

Sam looked confused, but Jon recalled a conversation they had had on their way to Winterfell. She had already given him the answer.

_“Because of your father.”_

She wasn’t talking about Ned Stark on that night.

“For Rhaegar?” he gasped. “Why?”

“I told you I might not have a choice on that front,” she said with a sad smile.

“I thought you hated him.”

“This is the first thing you must understand about Rhaegar. If you want to hate him, first you have to love him. Do you think I would be so angry if I didn’t care?”

Jon shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Jon felt even more guilty now. Rhaenys always seemed so arrogant, so cynical that it was easy to be cruel towards her. One would think nothing could hurt her. But it was just another one of her lies.

“I thought I was getting back at him when I renounced his name, but apparently he had taken that chance from me years ago. I don’t even know why I am so surprised, I should have expected this…”

“I admire your loyalty, Rhaenys.”

She became serious once again.“My loyalty? I’m a traitor, Jon!”

“A traitor? Why would you be a traitor?”

“Ten thousand Dornishmen died on the Trident because they thought Elia Martell was still Rhaegar’s wife. They died for nothing! One of them was my husband’s father! I should return home with my army, leave Rhaegar’s sister and his precious son to deal with the Night King. But here I am, still trying to make sure that oathbreaker didn’t die for nothing!”

“This is what we all need to do. Put our differences aside and fight together. For the greater good.”

She snorted. “If you think I am here for _the greater good_ , you haven’t been paying much attention.”

“Is this the only copy of this diary?” he asked Sam.

“It is… Why?”

These words helped Jon made up his mind. He took the diary, and tossed it into the fire.

Both Sam and Rhaenys were staring at him incredulously.

“What have you done?” Rhaenys gasped. “That was the only proof you had!”

“The proof of what, exactly?”

“That you aren’t a bastard, of course, you fucking idiot! Not everyone believes in magic trees and three-eyed ravens!” she scolded him. Jon had thought she would be pleased, but she obviously wasn’t.

“I’m not ashamed of being a bastard anymore.”

“What if one day you decide to reveal who your father really is?”

“My _father_ demanded justice for Princess Elia and her children,” he replied firmly. “And if he were here now, he’d tell that they didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that. I won’t keep lying to my people forever, but they don’t have to know of such an insult. If he’d wanted me to take the throne, he would’ve never let me join the Night’s Watch. This is what he would want me to do now. I don’t care what Rhaegar would want.”

All of a sudden, they heard a sharp, strange noise that made him shiver. It was like the screaming of a thousand men and women, as if they were being burned alive. But when Jon looked out of the window, he saw nothing. The snowy night was as calm as usual.

“What was that?” Rhaenys asked warily.

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s ask Bran,” Sam suggested.

They went to Bran’s chambers, and found him awake, sitting in his rolling chair as usual.

“The Wall is gone,” he said calmly, before they could ask him anything.

“Gone?” Jon gasped. “How?”

“Euron Greyjoy… He blew a dragon horn to bind the ice dragon beneath the Wall to his will.”

“Where is Euron now?” Rhaenys asked.

“He is dead. The dragon answered the call of the horn, but ice dragons don’t serve the living.”

“The Night King,” Jon realized. “The Night King will ride the ice dragon.”

Bran nodded.

The Free Folk he had sent to Eastwatch was gone. His friends at Castle Black were gone. There was nothing that stood between the living and the dead. And the Night King had his own dragon.

“How big is this ice dragon?” he asked.

“Bigger than Balerion the Dread,” Bran replied.

…

Last Hearth and Karhold had fallen. Winterfell was going to be next.

Now that the Night King had a mount of his own, using the dragons to defend Winterfell against the wights was no longer a wise strategy. Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Aegon were going to lead the Night King to the depths of the wolfswood, away from Winterfell. As long as Jon had dragonglass, wildfire, and Winterfell itself, with men to defend it, he could fight against the wights. According to Sam and Sarella, the White Walkers and the wights were going to die once the Night King himself was killed.

Bran had said the dragon riders needed to leave at once. But they were holding one final meeting with their most trusted generals before they left. Jon had been invited as well, for he was going to command their armies in their absence.

“As long as the ice dragon stays away from Winterfell, we can trust in the strength of the walls,” he said.

“What about the giants?” Lord Connington asked. “Your brother said they had giants! I think one of the dragons should stay here to defend the castle with us.”

If only Dany could stay here, with him… But her dragon was the largest. She had to go.

“I think Daenerys should stay,” Rhaenys suggested, as if she could read his mind.

“Are you insane? Drogon is the—“

“He is the largest of the three dragons, yes. And thus, the slowest. Besides, you are no warrior, Daenerys. I don’t want you to be my responsibility.”

“I am a Queen! I am not anybody’s responsibility!”

“It is no secret that we despise each other. If any harm comes to you out there, your people will blame me for your death. Lord Tyrion, the Unsullied, the Dothraki, Jon… I don’t want that.”

Dany turned to Jon.

“Lord Connington is right. I’ve seen men kill a giant before, but right now, it’s a risk we can’t afford to take,” he said, recalling that terrible night at Castle Black.

“I agree with Lord Connington,” Lord Tyrion added.

“If my people need me here, then I’ll stay here,” Daenerys relented.

…

“I’m glad you’re here, Dany,” Jon whispered as they watched Rhaegal and Viserion took off.

“The giants weren’t really why you wanted me to stay, were they?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Do you even need to ask?”

“We should never have fallen in love.”

“Why?”

“If something happens to your siblings, will you ever be able to forgive me?”

“They’re not my _siblings_. Not really.”

Dany nodded with a sad smile. “You don’t want to be a part of this family… Well, who can blame you?”

“No! No, I didn’t mean that… I can’t lie to the Northerners forever, Daenerys. After the war, if I survive, I’ll tell them the truth.”

“I thought you burned the High Septon’s diary?”

“I did. I can’t tell them that Rhaegar annulled his marriage for me and my mother. Rhaenys and Aegon don’t deserve to be insulted like that. But I can’t let the Northerners think they’re being ruled by Ned Stark’s son either.”

“You’re very noble, Jon. Lord Stark would be proud of you. You’ll always be his son, as you should be. I don’t want to take that away from you.”

Jon tried to ignore the fact that she was his aunt, and kissed her lips before they went to the battlements together. The Northerners, the Unsullied, the Dothraki, the Golden Company, the Knights of the Vale, the Brotherhood, and the Ironborn were there, waiting for his orders. He had sent the rivermen, the Lannisters—they were commanded by Ser Jaime, who had been pardoned by Daenerys— and the Dornishmen to the Neck, with the half of their wildfire stock. If Winterfell was lost, Howland Reed was going to flood the Neck with wildfire, and the living would have one last chance to win the Great War.

They could see the army of the dead on the horizon now. And as Bran had said, there were several giants among them. Dany mounted Drogon and began circling above the castle.

Half of the archers had been given dragonglass arrowheads, the other half had coated their arrows with wildfire. As the wights approached, they fell one by one with these arrows, but there were too many of them.

Jon was surprised to see Arya and Lady Brienne among the soldiers. “What are you doing here?” he asked angrily.

Arya shrugged. “Defending the North.”

“Well, I told you to protect Sansa and Bran, didn’t I?”

“Bran said they didn’t need our protection. Besides, you need everyone who has Valyrian steel.”

“Your Grace?” Brienne broke in.

“Yes?”

“You’ve asked other lords to send their wives, daughters, and sisters to fight for the North. Forgive me, but aren’t you willing to do the same?”

Brienne was right. He had asked the Northern lords to put the lives of their wives, daughters, and sisters in danger, because they needed everyone who could hold a weapon. His own sister was no exception.

In the meantime, Daenerys was fighting a giant. The giant was trying to kill the dragon, like a man trying to kill a fly buzzing around his head. But in the end, Drogon’s flames consumed him, and he collapsed, crushing at least a dozen wights beneath his enormous body.

The ones who had managed to dodge the arrows, the dead giants, and the flames soon started climbing the walls. Jon unsheathed Longclaw, and gathered everyone who had either dragonglass, or Valyrian steel.

“There’s too many of them, Jon,” Sam said with a trembling voice. He had been following Jon around since the beginning of the attack. “What are we going to do?”

“You’re not a coward, Sam,” Jon reminded him firmly. “You’ve faced them before, and you survived.”

“I’m not scared for myself. I’m scared for Gilly… and Little Sam.”

“They’re with Sansa and Bran. They’ll be fine.”

Sam nodded, and raised Heartsbane, apparently ready to kill every wight that reached the battlements. Jon smiled. Sam had changed indeed. The old Sam would shit himself the moment he saw a wight, let alone an army of them. But this Sam was only worried about the ones he loved, like everyone else. And they were all brave men. Cowards had no place in this war.

But things were getting worse, because everyone who had fallen was being raised by the White Walkers. Jon could see them waiting patiently in the distance. The Night King himself, or his ice dragon was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. Rhaenys and Aegon must have taken him to the wolfswood by now.

Suddenly, he heard a cold, terrible shriek. It was a dragon’s shriek, but it was much sharper, almost like cracking of ice.

And then he saw it. The ice dragon Bran had been talking about. It was indeed bigger than any creature Jon had seen before.

Rhaegal and Viserion were flying behind it, but the ice dragon was too fast for them to catch, although he was clearly injured. One of its feet was missing.

Then he heard Drogon roar, but when he turned around to look, he saw that another giant had caught the black-and-red dragon by his tail. Drogon was able to escape, but his tail had been ripped off, and he was bleeding out. Still, he managed to reach the ice dragon, and locked his jaws into its neck. Both dragons began to spiral down from the sky, into the godswood, with the Night King and Daenerys still on their backs.

“Daenerys!” Jon cried, and set off to the godswood to save her. He wasn’t sure if she could have survived the fall, but still… He had to find her.

He hadn’t even realized that Sam was coming with him until he killed a wight who had attacked Jon from behind.

Most of the trees in the godswood had been destroyed when the dragons had fallen, but the godswood was the least of Jon’s concerns right now.

“Daenerys!” he shouted again, and saw her trying to crawl out from under Drogon’s dead body. He went to help her.

“The Night King…” she started, but she was too weak to speak.

“Don’t worry about him now… You fought bravely. I’ll take you inside. Maester Wolkan will tend to your wounds, and—“

“Jon, stop. I know there’s no hope for me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Uhm, Jon…” Sam said warily. “Look.”

When Jon turned around, he saw the Night King staring at them. He had put a hand on the dead ice dragon.

He was trying to raise him…

But before he could succeed, Rhaenys leapt from Rhaegal’s back with a battle cry. The flaming sword was in her hand, but before the flames could touch the Night King’s skin, he hit her with his icy spear, sending Dragonspawn flying away. The frozen leaves on the ground were caught on fire where the fiery blade had landed.

Aegon, too, leapt from his dragon’s back, and came to her help. “Get the sword! I’ll hold him off!”

“Jon, listen to me,” Dany said. “You have to help them. This was exactly what Rhaegar wanted. The three heads of the dragon… Go!”

Reluctantly, Jon put her down, and turned to Sam. “Keep her safe.”

Sam nodded, and Jon went to help Aegon. Aegon had actually been able to stab the Night King in the heart, he noticed. Pale blue blood was leaking out of his chest. But apparently, it hadn’t been enough to kill him.

“Only the Lightbringer can kill him,” Aegon explained. “But he is too powerful for Rhaenys. We have to help her.”

And indeed, even when Jon managed to chop his left arm off, the Night King kept fighting as if he were still a whole. He was too powerful to be taken by one single man or woman.

When Rhaenys finally stabbed him in the back, Jon wished he, too, had a Lightbringer, so that he could have avenged the woman he loved. All he had been able to do was to keep him busy until the Lightbringer turned him into ashes.

But it was done. The Night King was dead, and his army had died with him. The fire in the godswood died out when Rhaenys sheathed the sword.

Jon turned to Aegon. He knew that Dany needed a miracle right now, and Aegon had powers... "Can you heal Daenerys?"

"Even if I could, why would I do that?" he said cruelly, his face twisted with hatred.

Jon decided to swallow up his pride for the woman he loved. "Because I'm begging you."

"It doesn't mean anything to me."

Rhaenys seemed like she would agree to help if she were the one with healing powers, but for some reason, she chose to remain silent. Realizing that there was no mercy to be found in Aegon's heart, Jon ran back to Daenerys.

Sam was still with her, as he had promised. Dany’s violet eyes were open, but she wasn’t moving anymore.

“I’m sorry, Jon. She is dead.”


	30. Dragon Blood

Rhaenys would have never thought that this could be possible, but for the first time in her life, she was glad that her mother and her uncles were dead. She was glad that they weren’t here to see what Rhaegar had really done to them. Annulling his marriage to Elia Martell, and marrying Lyanna in Dorne… As Jon had said, they didn’t deserve to be humiliated like this.

Someone knocked on the door. “Rhaenys?”

“Arya?” she asked, rubbing her eyes dry. Had she heard her sobbing? Aegon had decided to ride Viserion to Last Hearth and Karhold, to see if anyone had survived. It was actually an excuse to hide how glad he was about Daenerys’ death during her funeral. He refused to pretend like he mourned her, but he didn’t want to have a fight with Jon either, for Arya’s sake. Everyone else was attending the funeral. This was her only chance to shed the tears she had been holding back since she had come to Winterfell. But she couldn’t refuse to see Arya.

She hid the Targaryen cloak they had found in Lyanna’s tomb under the bed. Bran had taken them to the crypts a few days before the battle, and told them to open his aunt’s tomb. And indeed, Rhaegar’s harp and cloak were there. Knowing how much Daenerys respected Rhaegar, Jon had given them to her. After her death, Rhaenys had secretly taken the cloak from her chambers. Was it stealing? Even if it was, Rhaenys didn’t care.

When she unlocked the door, Arya greeted her with a sad smile. She didn’t like Daenerys much either, but Jon did, and now his heart was broken.

“How is Jon?” Rhaenys asked as she closed the door again.

Arya sighed, and flung herself down on a chair. “Not well. He locked himself in his chambers after the funeral. He doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“Jon is strong. Give him some time.”

“What about you?”

She forced herself to laugh. “What about me?”

“You’ve been crying…”

“I have,” she admitted. There was no point in lying to Arya.

Arya reached a hand under the bed, and pulled out Rhaegar’s cloak, with a judging look on her face. “Really?” she scolded her.

Rhaenys shrugged.

“He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

“No, he doesn’t… Learn from my mistakes, Arya. Love is precious. Try not to give it to those who don’t deserve it. You are lucky that Aegon is not like him."

“Why do you love Rhaegar so much?”

“Well, I suppose we always want what we don’t have. Rhaegar died before I could prove my worth to him. I will never know if I could have made him see why we didn’t deserve to be cast aside, or if I could have changed his mind about us. I will never know what was wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Like I said, I will never know.”

“I was never good enough for my mother either. Sansa was the proper lady, our mother always favored her. But I never wanted to change who I was. I knew I was never going to be a proper lady, so I had to become something else.”

“And what would you do, if your mother had abandoned you, and found herself a new husband because you weren’t good enough?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Your mother would probably never do that. She was a Tully, right? _Family, duty, honor_. Family comes before duty and honor. And what was Rhaegar’s excuse to betray his family? A fucking prophecy!”

“Do you think it was true? The prophecy?”

“No. Jon, Aegon, and I killed the Night King together, but we couldn’t have done it without Daenerys’ help. It was never about the three heads of the dragon. We fought with what we had, and we won.”

“Aegon said you believed in R’hllor’s prophecies. He said you were scared to defy him.”

“I was, after losing Oberyn. But people I love keep dying no matter how hard I try to please him.”

“Does that mean you won’t kill Aegon?”

So, that was why Arya had come here. “No. Especially not while you are both now free.”

“Free of what?” she asked, confused.

“I know you love each other. And I know you both want to see the world. You and Aegon deserve to be happy, Arya. The Great War is over. There is nothing that can stop you from living the life you want to live.”

“I—I don’t know. Winterfell is my home, but…”

“But you don’t look like someone who wants to spend her entire life here.”

“What about Storm’s End?”

“Aegon can name Ser Daemon his steward. I have been told he enjoys being in charge of Storm’s End.”

“I don’t know, Rhaenys… I need to think about it.”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, Rhaenys felt much better. He was done trying to please the Lord of Light. She wasn’t his slave anymore. The war had been won, and she was still alive. Aegon was still alive. Melisandre had been wrong. She was going to return to Dorne, and be with her children again. She was finally free to love them.

“I want you to have this,” Arya said, unbuckling her sword belt.

“Why do you want me to have Dark Sister?”

“Dark Sister and Dragonspawn are twin swords. And you have twins…”

“Right,” she nodded when she realized what Arya meant. “That would be fitting, I suppose. But I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“What Rhaegar did… It could have started a war between our houses. But he died, and we fought another war together instead. I have lost two sisters in that war. I could have lost Tyene in King’s Landing as well, but I didn’t. And I met you. I refuse to finish what Rhaegar started. You are the sister I choose, Arya. I want my children and grandchildren to know that. As for Dragonspawn… I have decided to throw it into the Narrow Sea. The Night King is dead. I no longer need it.”

Someone knocked on the door again. This time, it was Aegon. “Rhaenys?”

“Come in, brother.”

Aegon opened the door, and smiled when he saw his sister and lover together.

“So, did you find any survivors?”

“No.”

“Well, we didn’t have much hope, anyway.”

“Bran is in the godswood. He wants to speak with us.”

“About what?”

Aegon shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s find out, then.”

Aegon, Arya, and Rhaenys set off to the godswood together. Most of it had been destroyed, but the heart tree still stood. Bran was waiting for them under it, with Jon by his side.

“Bran says he can do something for us,” Jon explained. “He’s giving us a chance to go to the past, and speak with Rhaegar.”

Rhaenys thought her heart had stopped. She had a chance to see her father again…

But Aegon shook his head. “I have nothing to tell to that oathbreaker,” he said cruelly.

“Well, I do,” Rhaenys said. “He needs to know that the Great War has been won. That he didn’t die for nothing.”

“Stop tormenting yourself for him, sister. Do you even think he would want to hear what you have to say? Let his precious son tell him instead.”

She stared at him. _When did he become so hateful?_

“I am not going to give up on our father just because he gave up on us.”

“I am not coming with you, Rhaenys. You will be on your own this time.”

“Very well. What about you, Jon? Are you coming with me?”

“I am. Daenerys would want me to see him.”

“Good.”

Bran extended his hands. Jon took one, and Rhaenys took the other.

“Are you ready?” Bran asked them.

Both Jon and Rhaenys nodded.

Rhaenys closed her eyes, and tried to prepare herself, but how could she ever be prepared for this?

When she opened her eyes, they were in the middle of a battle. Rhaenys looked around and gasped in horror. This was the Battle of the Trident.

She turned to Bran, who apparently didn’t need his rolling chair here. “Please, Bran, take us to somewhere else. I can’t watch him die, please…”

“It has to happen now. Come with me,” Bran told them, his voice as serene as ever.

“They can’t see us, can they?” Jon asked, looking around as they walked among the soldiers, both living and dead.

“No,” Bran replied.

Gerold’s father, and Prince Lewyn were somewhere here, but Rhaenys was too excited to look for anyone other than Rhaegar himself.

They found Rhaegar and Robert in the stream. Their horses were dead, but they were still fighting.

And there stood Rhaegar, in his black armor, the three-headed dragon decorated in shiny, red rubies in the breastplate, with an equally beautiful longsword in his hand. Rhaenys wondered if she could change the past. No one could see her right now. If she killed that fucking beast, Robert…

But Rhaegar didn’t seem to need her help at all. Robert Baratheon had been injured badly, and he didn’t look like he could last much longer against Rhaegar. The sight filled her heart with a childish pride.

Rhaenys had already forgotten all those terrible things she had always wanted to tell her father. She knew that this was her only chance to show him how much he had hurt her, but it didn’t matter. She had already forgotten the pain. All she wanted was to hug him, and tell him how much she loved him.

But if he had killed Robert, why had he died? Why hadn’t he returned from the Trident? Or was she only imagining this?

“I don’t understand,” she murmured. “I don’t understand, he is winning.”

She turned to Jon for confirmation, and he nodded. So, this wasn’t a dream. Rhaegar was indeed winning.

“Listen,” Bran told her.

“Why?” Robert Baratheon roared, taking off his helmet. “Why did you take my Lyanna? What did you want from her?”

Rhaegar, too, took off his own helmet, and Rhaenys thought that this time, her heart would truly stop. This was the face of the hero she had worshiped as a little girl.

“I needed her family’s sword,” he replied coldly. “I’ve seen Ice being reforged into two swords. One for me, one for my son.”

Rhaenys’ smile faded. “W—what?”

“That was what he’d seen in the flames,” Bran explained.

She remembered the conversation she and Aegon had had with Kinvara many years ago. One of her priests had shown Rhaegar something. No one knew what it was. _The vision was for him, and him alone._

“He wanted to forge two Lightbringers…” Rhaenys realized.

Bran nodded. “He was hoping Lyanna’s family would perish in the rebellion, so that Ice would be his to take.”

“Did my mother know?” Jon asked.

“No. No one knew.”

“And then?” Rhaenys forced herself to ask.

“He named both his sons Aegon for a reason. The one who loved you more was going to sacrifice you, and create the first Lightbringer. He was going to sacrifice the other one for his own sword.”

“So, he lied to my mother about the three heads of the dragon?”

“He lied to everyone, Rhaenys,” Bran said softly.

Rhaenys looked at her father again. He was preparing to kill Robert now.

“Robert Baratheon didn’t kill him,” she whispered, looking at Dragonspawn at her hip. It had come here with her. And it had come for a reason. “I did. He is the sacrifice."

“You have to kill him before he kills Robert.”

“Rhaenys, you don’t have to do it,” Jon begged her. “Let me.”

“I am his firstborn, Jon. He is mine to kill.”

She understood it now. She wasn’t going to sacrifice Aegon for the realm. She was going to sacrifice her father, the one she loved most, for both Aegon and Jon. She also understood why no other sacrifice would be accepted while she loved Rhaegar this much.

Rhaegar was ready to deliver the final blow.

“Come on!” Robert urged him. “Get on with it!”

When she put a hand on his shoulder, Rhaegar paused, and look around to see who had come. But he couldn’t see anyone.

Rhaenys wondered if he could hear her.

“Father,” she whispered into his ear, and felt him shiver. “Listen. I know you can hear me. I want you to know why this is happening to you… Did you really think I would let you kill my brother, you fucking lunatic?”

Yes, she loved her father, but her father was a monster. He was no better than the Mad King. He was simply better at hiding it. “For Aegon, Jon, Elia, Oberyn, Doran, Gerold, and the girl I used to be.”

Rhaegar groaned in pain when Dragonspawn pierced his chest from behind. “Forgive me, Rhaenys,” he whimpered.

Rhaenys took a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. She didn’t want him to know that she was crying. “Never,” she said coldly before twisting the blade, which was now glowing red. The sacrifice had been accepted.

And then, the Voice spoke for the first time in years. _“I told you you couldn’t fight me forever.”_

Rhaenys pulled the sword out, and dropped it on the ground. The orphans of the Greenblood had been right. This cursed blade was indeed going to bring her a horrible death. If only she had let the Mountain kill her back in King’s Landing. Or the women in the Temple of the Graces… It would surely have been less painful than this.

Robert Baratheon, who had apparently not seen, or hear anything, scrambled to his feet, and looked for the ghost who had just killed his greatest enemy. Then he scanned the battlefield again. This time, it was probably to see if there were any other witnesses. But there were none.

So, he raised his warhammer, and with a massive blow, scattered the rubies in Rhaegar’s armor.

“No!!!” Rhaenys cried. “Don’t touch him! Don’t touch my father!”

But Robert didn’t hear her. He kept hitting the silver prince with his hammer, again and again. He seemed furious that it wasn’t him who had killed Rhaegar.

Rhaenys wanted to cast herself between Robert Baratheon, and her father’s dead body, and had Jon not stopped her, she would have.

“Rhaenys, it’s over,” he said. “He’s gone.”

She collapsed on the ground. “What have I done?”

“You’ve saved us. You’ve saved my entire family. You’ve saved Aegon.”

“And I’ve sealed my mother’s fate…”

“Rhaenys, I’ve never met Princess Elia, but if she’d known that Rhaegar was planning to raise her children for slaughter, I think she would’ve died anyway.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “She would rather be tortured to death. I knew I would.”

“And you’re your mother’s daughter. Come on, let’s go home.”

“I am not coming, Jon.”

“What?”

“What happens if I stay here?” she asked Bran.      

“You die.”

“Good. I am ready.”

“Rhaenys, I know you are upset, but please don’t do this.”

She looked at the blood on her hands. It was her father’s blood. “I can’t live with this pain, Jon. It is too much.”

“You are the strongest person I’ve ever seen.”

“And even I am not strong enough for this.”

“Think of your children! What were their names? Ashara and Lewyn, right? We both know what it’s like to grow up without a mother. You have to protect your family. Your people…”

“I can’t protect anyone if I go mad. They must be protected from me.”

“What of Aegon? What am I supposed to tell him?”

“Tell him not to blame himself. Tell him that I am truly sorry.”

“Jon, she won’t come,” Bran interrupted him.

Slowly, Rhaenys rose to her feet, and Jon flung his arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Rhaenys. I was so ungrateful to you.”

“No, you weren’t. I lied to you earlier. You are my brother. And I am glad you are my brother. I know this is hard for you to believe right now, but Aegon is not an evil man. Please don’t fight him. Please let him be happy for Arya. It wasn't easy for my poor brother to find love. Don't take that from him."

“I won't. I promise."

True, Aegon would be devastated once he learned what had happened here, but Arya and the Sand Snakes would heal his broken heart. Rhaneys had to believe that they would. Perhaps one day, he would even stop blaming Jon...

People were now gathering around Rhaegar’s dead body, to see if he was truly dead. But no one saw the boy who was crying in his sister’s arms, and the three-eyed raven who was waiting to take him back to where he belonged.


	31. The Great Other

“I don’t have to see this,” Aegon muttered angrily, and returned to the Guest House, leaving Arya alone with Bran, Jon, and Rhaenys, who were probably speaking with Rhaegar right now.

He slammed his door shut, and flung himself down on the bed. In the past, he used to think Rhaenys needed to forgive Rhaegar to find peace. He had been wrong. Now he wished she would just hate him, the way she hated Euron Greyjoy, or the Lannisters

_“I won’t give up on our father just because he gave up on us.”_

Rhaegar had annulled his marriage to their mother, married Lyanna in Dorne, and sired another son, and given Aegon’s name to him. He was the reason their mother had died a horrible death. He was the reason their lives had been ruined. What else did Rhaenys need to give up on him?

But Aegon wasn’t angry with her. He was just envious. He had never had a problem with sharing his sister’s love with others, but now he refused to share her with Jon. No matter what she said, she was ready to be his sister, too. Because of Jon, Arya would never truly be his. There was nothing he could do to change that. Arya would always choose him, if she had to choose. But Rhaenys was different. Aegon had always been her favorite person, anything less than that was unthinkable. She had to remain his. And Lyanna’s son was about to take everything from him.

He heard one of the dragons—probably Rhaegal—roar in the distance, but he decided to ignore it. About quarter an hour later, someone began pounding on the door.

“Aegon! Aegon, please, open the door!”

It was Sarella.

The moment Aegon opened the door, Sarella flung her arms around his neck, and started crying.

Something was wrong. Again.

“Sarella, what is it?”

“She is dead…”

“Who?” he asked, confused.

“Rhaenys.”

“W—what? No, she was just fine when I left her in the godswood!”

Yes, she had been injured during the fight with the Night King, but they both had. Maester Caleotte had said the wounds wouldn’t fester, and there was nothing to fear.

“When they were in the past…” Sarella started, but she burst into tears again before she could finish.

Bran and Jon… They had done something to his sister. “I’m going to kill them,” he announced and went to buckle his swordbelt.

“Kill who?” Sarella gasped in shock.

“Bran and Jon, of course. What did they do to her, Sarella? I need to know.”

He didn’t care about Arya, he didn’t care about the consequences of the war he was about to start.

“They didn’t do anything!” she cried. “It was Rhaegar!”

He froze. “What?”

“She killed Rhaegar. He was planning to make one of his sons sacrifice her… Whichever of you loved her more… He was going to sacrifice the other one himself. Rhaenys killed him. And she didn’t want to come back. Jon is devastated. Please, Aegon… We took her body to the sept.”

So, she wasn’t really dead. She was just lingering somewhere in the past. Of course, that idiot, Jon, had failed to persuade her. But she would listen to Aegon.

Silently, he followed Sarella to the sept of Winterfell. Arya had once told him that her father had it built for Lady Catelyn, but Aegon had never been here before.

Rhaenys was indeed lying on the marble table in the center of the sept. Arya, Jon, and Bran were there as well.

“Aegon, I’m sorry, I tried—“ Jon started, but Aegon ignored him.

“You have to take me to her,” he told Bran.

“I can’t. She is dead.”

“No! She can’t be dead, there is no reason for her to die! She just needs to return to her body!”

“That’s not how it works.”

Suddenly, Bran’s indifference to Rhaenys’ death made him furious. “And you know that? You know everything, right? Did you know what would happen when you offered to take her to Rhaegar?”

“I did.”

“Aegon, the sacrifice had to be done. But no one killed her. That was her choice,” Jon added.

“ _Choice_? You made her kill Rhaegar, and expected her to have a choice? Get out of my way! I can bring her back myself!”

“Even if you can, please don’t. You weren’t there. You didn’t see how much she suffered. Let her rest.”

Aegon had had enough. He unsheathed Blackfyre. “Get out of my way!”

“What are you going to do?” Jon asked warily, preparing to draw his own sword.

“I am going to bring Rhaenys back. If I fail, then at least I will avenge her.”

“How?”

“By killing the three-eyed raven, who lured her into the trap.”

“Aegon, please don’t do this. I promised Rhaenys not to fight you. But I can’t let you kill Bran.”

“Then first, I will have to kill you.”

Now Longclaw was unsheathed as well. So was Dark Sister.

“I love you, Aegon. But if you hurt my brothers,” Arya said, “I’ll have no choice but to kill you. If you hurt them, you’ll become Rhaegar.”

Sarella put a hand on his shoulder. “Aegon, please… Rhaenys didn’t die for this.”

Reluctantly, Aegon put his sword down. True, Rhaenys didn’t want him to kill anyone. But he wanted to kill so many people. “ _Revenge is the most selfish thing there is_ ,” she had said once. But right now, Aegon couldn’t afford to be selfish.

“Thanks, Aegon,” Jon said.

“Leave us,” he snarled.

Jon left the sept with Bran. But Arya remained put.

“You, too, Arya. It is not wise for you to be here.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“I wasn’t threatening you. I am the only one who needs to be scared of _me_.”

“I lost her too, you know. She was my friend!”

“I know,” he said softly, realizing how much he had hurt her. “But I don’t want to say anything that I might regret later. Please, Arya. It was wrong of me to threaten Jon and Bran. After all, I had promised you. But I have to do something, or else I will lose my mind.”

“I want to do something as well. I kill those who hurt my friends. But tell me, Aegon, how can I add a dead man on my list?”

Aegon went to Rhaenys, and took her hands into his. She was already cold… He tried to warm her. _Rhaenys doesn’t like the cold._

“Rhaegar?” he hissed. “Do you think Rhaegar is the only one who was responsible for _this_?”

“Who else, then?”

“Rhaegar, Bran, Jon… There is someone who used them all to create himself a champion. R’hllor.”

“Well, we can’t kill a god either!”

“You should be proud of her,” Thoros of Myr interrupted them. He was in the sept, along with what had remained of the Brotherhood: Edric Dayne, Sandor Clegane, and a few others. Most of the Brotherhood, including Beric Dondarrion, had died in the Great War. The red priest had been even more drunk than usual since then.

“She was the Lord’s chosen,” he went on. “It’s a great honor.”

Aegon placed a kiss on his sister’s forehead, but it wasn’t enough to calm himself down. Seething with fury, he turned to the priest.

“Honor? She didn’t need R’hllor’s honor. _Unbowed, unbent, unbroken_ … All her life, my sister lived by these words. Now, how am I supposed to tell her people, her children that she was broken by her own father? She obeyed your lord, yet he didn’t stop until she was dead!”

“We’re only standing here because of him.”

Aegon had had enough. He knew he was going to kill someone in this sept. The darkness within him didn’t give Aegon any other option. Apparently, it was Thoros of Myr. Aegon stabbed the priest in the heart before he could even draw his sword.

The others seemed ready to avenge Thoros, save for the Hound. If that one decided to stay out of the fight, Aegon might be able to handle the rest. If not, at least he would be reunited with Rhaenys…

“Stay back, Sarella,” he commanded.

He looked at Arya. Her sword was drawn, but they were guests here, and she was a Stark of Winterfell. She couldn’t kill them under her roof, no matter how much he wanted it. That was how Lady Sansa had been able to stop her when the Brotherhood had arrived Winterfell, but Aegon wished that she hadn’t. He would have gladly helped Arya kill them all.

“Leave in peace,” Arya told them. “If you attack him, you won’t be welcomed here anymore. And I’ll be free to kill you.”

“He killed Thoros!” one of them said, but Aegon couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t care.

“Thoros was a traitor to Dorne,” he said. “Anyone who worships R’hllor is a traitor to Dorne.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” Edric Dayne said.

“Actually, it is. Until Ashara comes of age, I am the regent. Which means I get to decide who is a traitor and who is not. And I don’t want to fight you, Edric. You are a Dayne, and the Lord of Starfall. My niece and nephew are half Daynes. We are family. The Brotherhood is gone. Return home, and you will be pardoned. Starfall is where you belong. As for the rest of you, take your priest and leave. Remember that those who worship the Lord of Light won’t be welcome in the stormlands, or in Dorne.”

The men of the Brotherhood looked at each other, and eventually, they decided to take Thoros’ body and leave.

“Thoros of Myr was on my list,” Arya reminded him.

Of course Aegon knew that. “Aye, Arya. I stole a name from your list. If you want to punish me for it, go ahead.”

“So, is this how you’re planning to avenge Rhaenys? By killing those who worship the Lord of Light?”

“No. There is a better way. Do you remember what Qyburn told us?”

“You’re going to Stygai!” she gasped.

“I have to find the Great Other. If he promises me revenge, I will agree to serve him in return.”

“Are you mad?”

“Mayhaps.”

“Well, I’m not coming with you!”

“Good. I don’t want you.”

“Idiot,” Arya muttered and slapped Aegon’s cheek as hard as she could. Aegon didn’t do anything. He simply watched her storm off as he rubbed his cheek.

“Arya loves you,” Sarella said once they were alone. “Don’t be such a cunt to her.”

“I have to go to Stygai, Sarella.”

“You might die out there!”

“So?”

“So? Rhaenys sacrificed herself because she wanted you to live! And who knows what this Great Other will want from you? What if he asks you to make a terrible sacrifice? What if he asks you to kill Arya, Ashara, Lewyn, or me and my sisters?”

“Then I won’t make a deal with him.”

“I am not sure if you will be given a choice…”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Take my sister home. And give her the funeral she deserves.”

“You remind me of Father,” she said with a sad smile. “I think you will always be his son, not Rhaegar’s.”

“Why?”

“Well, this sounds like something the Red Viper would do.”

Right. Oberyn would definitely venture into the Corpse City, if that was what it took to avenge his sister.

“Goodbye, sister,” he said, giving Rhaenys one last kiss. It was a terrible thing, to know that he was never going to see her again. If he survived Stygai, and returned to Dorne, all he was left was going to be a tomb.

…

He didn’t say goodbye to Arya before leaving Winterfell. Arya didn’t come to see him off either. He was still determined to seek the Great Other in Stygai as he flew above the Narrow Sea on Viserion’s back, but now, Sarella’s warnings were echoing in his head.

What if the Great Other indeed demanded a great sacrifice? How would he be punished if he refused? What if he perished somewhere beyond the Shadow Lands? Who was going to raise Ashara and Lewyn? Who was going to rule Dorne until they came of age?  The Sand Snakes didn’t know much about ruling. And Arya… After everything that had happened, he had lost her for good. Still, her heart would be broken if he never returned to Westeros.

He couldn’t wait until he had a random dream about his future. But there was another way. The shade of the evening. He could use it now. Rhaenys was dead. The worst had come to pass. He had nothing left to fear from the future.

He decided to spend the night on Dragonstone. With Daenerys’ death, it was abandoned once again. He let Viserion go hunting, and chose a bedchamber to perform the rite.

“ _Please_ ,” he begged, in the ancient, forgotten language of the Rhoynar, but he wasn’t sure if it would work. The shade of the evening was something that was consumed by the warlocks of Qarth, not by those who practiced Water Magic. But what else could he do? “ _I need to know if I can trust the Great Other to avenge my sister._ ”

After swallowing the potion, he lay down on the bed, and soon fell asleep. When he woke up, he found himself in the same bedchambers on Dragonstone. There was no light, or fire to be seen, but he could still see his surroundings clearly. It was as if the entire realm itself was being illuminated by an invisible source of light.

He then heard footsteps, and ran to open the door to see who else was here.

A small woman with long, dark hair was scurrying down the corridor with hasty steps. Her back was turned to him, so Aegon couldn’t see her face, but he knew this woman was Rhaenys.

“Sister!” he cried, but she didn’t stop.

_Where am I_ , he wondered as he followed her. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of his future. Had he somehow ended up in the realm of the dead? Or worse, was he dead?

True, a part of him wanted to follow Rhaenys to the grave, but he couldn’t do that. Not before he got his revenge.

Rhaenys led him to Aegon’s Garden. Only then, she stopped, and faced him. And Aegon realized he had been wrong. This wasn’t Rhaenys.

“Mother?”

“Hello, Aegon,” she said softly.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, or what to do. Then, he hugged her. Finally he was with his mother. If he could see his mother, he could see Rhaenys, Oberyn, Doran, Trystane, Obara, and Nymeria, too.

“Am I dead?” he asked, his voice full of hope.

“Dead?” she laughed. “No. This is neither the land of the living, nor the dead. I think we are somewhere in between.”

“Why are we here, then?”

“I have come here to tell you the truth.

“The truth about what?”

“Do you remember what your sister told you about the star that had fallen the night you were conceived?” he asked, gently stroking his hair. That was what Rhaenys, too, would do whenever they had to discuss something important.

“Stars don’t fall for ordinary men,” he repeated.

“True. When I was a young maiden, the seers of the Greenblood had told me something. That my son would be destined to rule the realm.”

“I will never be a king, Mother. Besides, the Iron Throne doesn’t mean anything for the Seven Kingdoms anyway. They all have declared independence. No one wants to fight someone else’s war anymore.”

“The seers weren’t talking about the realm of the living. You shall rule the darkness one day. You are the Great Other. Why do you think the elders accepted to teach you?”

“But, but… I don’t understand. I can’t be the Great Other. He is mentioned in ancient books, and I am barely six-and twenty! How can it be possible?”

“This is difficult to explain, Aegon. But where we are, time is irrelevant”

“Where _you_ are? Do you mean, you are all together? Have you seen Rhaenys?”

“Don’t worry, she is at rest. She will be alright.”

He sighed heavily.

Elia chuckled. “What is it?”

“It is just… I don’t know. When I was a boy, I would always go to Rhaenys whenever I needed you. But now you are here, and I need her.”

“She wanted to come. But her soul wasn’t strong enough. She suffered too much, Aegon.”

“So, how am I going to avenge her? If I am R’hllor’s eternal enemy, why did that necromancer tell me to go to the Stygai?”

“In Stygai, there is a gateway into the darkness. If you use that gate, you don’t have to wait until you die in some other way.”

“So, I have to find that gateway and become the Great Other?”

“You can do that. But why would you? I told you, time is irrelevant in the realm of the dead. Your kingdom isn’t going anywhere. And once you shed the flesh, there will be no going back. The life you had here is precious. Don’t throw it away.”

_Right_ , he thought. Aegon hadn’t thought the journey would be irreversible. But he was ready.

“I don’t want to be separated from Rhaenys. How can I live while she is gone?”

“Oberyn and I were inseparable as well. Do you think I don’t know how you feel right now? But you have to do what your uncle did for me. You have to take care of what your sister left behind. You have to protect her legacy.”

He nodded. His mother was right. “I will do that, I promise. I will go to Dorne immediately.”

“Dorne can wait. Go to Winterfell first.”

“For what, exactly?”

“For the Stark girl.”

“Arya knows we don’t have a future together. I can’t love someone whose brother lured Rhaenys into a trap.”

“Aye, Brandon Stark… He serves the Lord of Light, just like that Targaryen bastard before him. R’hllor hasn’t taken everything from him yet, but he won’t be Arya’s brother forever. I don’t think that boy could be anyone’s brother. Not anymore.”

“So, if I am destined to be the Great Other… Was R’hllor a mortal once, too?”

“Probably.”

“How do you know all of these? Can you see the future, too?”

“No, my son. That’s your gift. My time in the darkness has taught me a lot, but I can’t know everything.”

“I want to marry her,” he suddenly blurted out. Arya wasn’t going to be convinced easily, but that was the only way Jon would give them his blessing. And his blessing meant everything to Arya. What of his mother, though?

She laughed. “Now that I know.”

“Do I have your blessing?” he asked, not sure if the answer would be a yes.

“Of course. Why would you not?”

“Doesn’t she remind you of her aunt?”

“Lyanna,” she whispered, but there was no anger in her dark eyes. Only pity. “I don’t blame her. She is a victim, too. The poor girl would have been devastated if she had known what Rhaegar was planning to do to her family.”

“Mother?”

“Yes?”

“When I become the Great Other… Will I be able to punish Rhaegar?”

“Rhaegar’s soul is protected by R’hllor himself. That’s why you will fight him.”

“What about the Mountain, though? If Qyburn was serving me, why did I let him raise that monster?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

“I wanted to give him a fate worse than death. I wanted to make him suffer.”

“Yes. And you also knew how much Rhaenys wanted a chance to face him.”

“I love you, Mother.”

“I love you, too.”

Then he woke up, and found himself in the land of the living once again. Was what had just happened real? Or was it only a dream? But a dream wouldn’t feel so peaceful. Only a mother’s blessing would.

_Winterfell_ , he thought. _I must go to Winterfell_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe I did it! Thanks everyone for the support. As I told dear DarthSidious before, I didn't have much hope for a story with unpopular characters and pairings, but I'm very happy with the feedback I've received so far. I had thought more people would have reacted to the previous chapter, but maybe people just wanted to wait until the last chapter before commenting. Or maybe it wasn't even such a good twist...
> 
> I've thought a lot about if I should post this on FFnet as well, just to spite the haters, and in the end, I've decided not to. I don't want to start another flame war. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story as a whole. As for those who didn't, I'm really sorry I wasted your time. But I want to thank you as well, for being so mature about it :)


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